


Of Refuge and Reparations

by Seaward



Series: Of Galaxies and Gifts [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Stargate Atlantis, The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternative Pronouns, Canon Character of Color, Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Don't copy to another site, Gender Issues, Grey-Asexual Character, Identity Issues, M/M, Spirit Animals, medical misconduct, nonbinary pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 64,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaward/pseuds/Seaward
Summary: After a couple months on Atlantis, Spencer Reid is settling in as Ronon's lover and Guide when they are called back to investigate a murder on Shan Mal. Spencer struggles in his new role and worries his investigative skills won't be enough to navigate the cultural forces and conspiracies surrounding people he's come to care about.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely from Spencer Reid's POV but there is little else from Criminal Minds. As an AU, this splits off from Criminal Minds in 2012 and is set in 2013. This affects some of the characters' background knowledge about gender and nonbinary pronouns (as does their interaction with people from other cultural and language backgrounds). For more specific warnings, please see the end note. Many, many thanks to Elayna and Diony for reading and feedback (although I went back and tinkered afterward, so of course, all mistakes are mine).

_Tarafan resented his assignment guarding the Ring of the Ancestors. The glory for killing the Wraith clone and his army had gone to an outsider. Tarafan's own righteous kill of an assassin princess masquerading as a healer had been concealed from the people. His future as a personal guard to the companions and scholars required that he calm his frustration and continue as assigned._

_But the latest refugee looked even younger than the haughty assassin. A flash of pale skin was all he saw through the dark of night and bundled clothing. The intruder ran from him rather than standing to fight. He drew his throwing knife so as not to abandon his post._

_An arrow struck him in the chest. His throw drifted to one side, striking only ground._

_Tarafan stared at the arrow above his heart wondering if it could be poisoned, remembering the archers from the Wraith clone's army. Before he could turn to sound the alarm bell, another arrow took him down. The sky above was all he saw as his eyes blinked closed against the dawn._

#

Ronon's arms stretched along Spencer's, warm and taut. In the same way he'd taught Spencer to spar, he corrected the curve wordlessly. Both sets of arms formed a circle before Ronon kicked Spencer into a spin. And another. And another.

"Watch the door," Ronon spoke for the first time in his teaching of the Satedan dance that was fiercer than any Earth tango. Spencer thought of football teams training in ballet and wondered if Satedan traditions reflected something similar.

On the next spin, Spencer kept his eyes on the door. He whipped his head around only at the last second and realized it improved his balance as Ronon kicked them through one final spin and dropped Spencer into a low dip over the gym mat.

Hands clapped from the direction Spencer had been watching a moment before. "'Dancing with the Stars' takes on a whole new meaning in the Atlantis training rooms." Sheppard stretched every word and slouched against the doorframe as Spencer regained his feet. "It seems the council on Shan Mal wants your help to catch an archer."

#

As they arrived through the Gate, the vegetation on Shan Mal was as green and the people as orange as before. A guard greeted them saying, "Welcome. Please state your names and who you are here to see." Spencer was surprised by the wave of distress he felt from the guard, who was dressed all in black and stood beside a large metal bell.

There had been no local guard at the Gate when they first came to question the comforter, Alohabar, or when they returned after he was attacked and taken to Atlantis for medical care. There hadn't been a grave-shaped patch of newer grass where the Lantean shuttle had shot the ground to hold back an invading army. For at least half a minute Spencer was caught up in considering cultural changes driven by the attacks on Shan Mal, the virus detector McKay had created for their Gate, and the example the Lanteans had set by posting their own guards while Spencer was effectively held hostage on the planet. Therefore, it took over a minute for the profiler to realize the others expected him to lead the introductions. "I'm Spencer Reid. The council invited me, and this is my team: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, and Ronon Dex."

Spencer's throat tightened as he claimed his new team aloud. By the time he finished speaking, the guard's eyes were tracing up and down Ronon's body. Spencer suppressed a twinge of jealousy before a tug over their bond made him feel warm and proud instead.

"The great warrior returns. We are honored." The guard dipped his chin to his chest before returning his gaze to Ronon's face. Spencer registered the admiration and lust behind the respectful address. He guessed this guard had seen Ronon defend the planet and take out half an invading army single-handed, which Spencer could agree had been impressive and hot. "Please proceed. The council is eager to welcome you."

They made their way up the hill toward the council chambers, the school, and the place that wasn't quite a brothel but specialized in services of a rather intimate nature. All around them were jewel-toned buildings with fabric walls, most with flaps pulled back to admit a warm afternoon breeze.

#

"This morning, the guard posted at our Ring of the Ancestors was found dead." The council member who addressed them sat near the center in the row of six, each seated upon a uniquely garish pillow along a raised platform at the front of the council chamber. This one wore shiny lime green robes that Spencer found particularly uncomplimentary to the man's dark orange skin tone. "A couple of students reported seeing the Ring open, and someone run through as the guard fell to the ground. The guard, Tarafan, is unconscious and may not survive. He was shot with two arrows, so you can see why we called you."

Sheppard slouched as if he were leaning against a wall, even with no wall present. "Not really." The black clad guards at either door did not look impressed. McKay pretended to be studying his tablet, but Spencer could tell he was using his heightened senses as well. Teyla stood on the far side of McKay, calm but watchful. Ronon stood close behind Spencer.

A councilor in heavy red and purple robes said, "Until your battle with the Wraith clone's army, we had never seen bows and arrows used as weapons on Shan Mal."

"Surely your people are adopting many new tools and practices, having only recently opened your Ring to outsiders after so long in isolation." Teyla spoke with a calm surety, as if this were the only practical conclusion.

"No such items have appeared in local trade," the original councilor said. "Our people would have no idea how to use them and no desire to kill our own guard. This is the work of outside forces and so outsiders like yourselves must set it right."

A closed mind was unlikely to be swayed during one meeting, but Spencer knew enough from the BAUs work with other agencies on Earth to establish clear terms and jurisdiction from the start. "If we agree to help you, we'll need authority to follow all leads and to investigate anyone. Whether the shooter turns out to be a local citizen or not, I will not hand someone over to a justice system I cannot trust, and you have given me no reason to trust in yours." He left unspoken how he had more or less been kept as a hostage after saving the comforter Alohabar's life.

"So long as you take the criminal away, never to return here or bother our people again, you can decide on the punishment. Otherwise, it is up to us." The councilor who spoke sat to one end and lifted her arm high as she spoke, showing off the drape of her deep blue sleeve.

"We agree to no such thing," a woman with deep wrinkles and silvery blue robes croaked out. "Who are they to dictate terms and why should we believe they can help anyway?"

The council whispered among themselves until one who had not yet spoken, the scholar Spencer had found least objectionable on their last visit, gave what sounded like a formal statement. "Let it be recognized that our bonds of obligation extend to you for your help in defending our Ring of the Ancestors and yours to us as you first came seeking information from Alohabar, whose life you did later save. If you accept the duty to track down this new attacker, then we give you the right to sentence any outsider as you see fit. If the accused is a member of our own people or network of obligations, you will need to convince us with evidence before we can allow you to punish one of our own. If we are not convinced, then the accused will remain in custody here, which you may monitor, until the matter is resolved. You will be given freedom to go where you will and question who you will. You will be lent a knife from our official guards to show you work with official sanction in this matter."

Based on the local students' scorn of written notes during his last visit, Spencer assumed this sort of verbal contract was considered adequate and binding on Shan Mal. He did not hesitate to offer his own amendments. "We willingly offer our help, on the added conditions that we decide when the investigation ends and will not be detained or considered in any way indebted to you beyond that point. My entire team must be allowed free access to the Ring and whatever methods of communication we deem necessary. Also, while our laws and beliefs fully support bringing in a suspect alive, collecting evidence, and presuming everyone innocent until proven guilty, there may be circumstances in which we would need to use lethal force to defend ourselves or others."

"You ask permission to kill without consequence?" asked a council woman who reminded Spencer of Rossi with her calm tone and piercing gaze.

"Never," Spencer replied, finding it easy to echo the woman's calm and meet her gaze. "But if you ask me to hunt for a killer, I would be at an unfair disadvantage if I couldn't kill in self-defense. In such a case, I would present you with all available evidence, and I would remain answerable to my people's own justice system. You could still ban me from your world as you saw fit."

"And it will still be up to me," McKay said, "whether or not to update or service the warning system I built for your Ring."

Sheppard huffed in a way that seemed loud to Spencer, and McKay stopped at that.

There was whispering among the council again. Ronon and McKay both relaxed a fraction, undoubtedly due to their exceptional hearing, before the scholar on the council said, "Agreed. The Head of Security will equip you with one or more of the guards' official knives and answer any questions you have as to what is known so far."

#

One of the guards from the council meeting asked them all to wait for the Head of Security in the interior courtyard between the school and where they'd first met Alohabar. Spencer remembered running across the open space, followed closely by Ronon, when Alohabar had been attacked and screamed. A flash of memory—fighting to protect Alohabar and falling to Ronon's stunner—had Spencer extra alert and breathing fast. But there was nothing to fight this time.

Now there was a life-size wooden statue in the center of the courtyard. It showed a man still shooting a blaster despite having fallen to his knees. An arrow protruded from his shoulder and a huge gash ripped across one thigh. The thigh wound hadn't been that large in real life. Instead there had been blood seeping from a small but poisoned leg wound. The rich whorls of wood couldn't convey half the horror Spencer had felt in that moment. Instead the artist had captured the flexed muscles in Ronon's arms as he almost single-handedly defended Shan Mal. The arch of his eyebrows and the dreadlocks that framed his face were surprisingly true to life.

"Seriously? They made a statue for him?" McKay scoffed as the rest of the team came to stand around it. Sheppard bumped McKay's arm as he stopped, and the scientist pulled out his tablet and pretended to ignore them all. The way his head tilted to one side and Sheppard maintained contact suggested the genius was pushing his Sentinel senses hard, rather than using technology at the moment, and Sheppard was grounding him as a Guide in Beckett's absence. Even without understanding the exact relationship between the three men and Sheppard's bond to Atlantis, Spencer was amazed at how long they'd kept their gifts secret.

"The likeness is impressive. I assume the artist had to work from memory?" Teyla raised an eyebrow and studied Ronon from head to toe.

"Leg wasn't that bad." Ronon shifted closer to Spencer as a young woman dressed entirely in flowing white fabric, marking her as a comforter of some sort, approached.

"May I be the first to welcome your return, Warrior Ronon?" The comforter swept her arms forward in a dramatic gesture. She had placed herself so the sun shone through her thin white blouse, accentuating the dark curves underneath. From what he'd seen of Shan Mal and especially the comforters, Spencer assumed the effect was intentional. The dramatic gestures still reminded him of opera or Kabuki theatre. "I would be honored to share my gift for emotive touch with you."

Ronon moved so his arm pressed against Spencer's and their bond flared between them. "No thanks."

"Then later perhaps? My name is Niramar. The guards could help you find me, day or night." Her smile and the way she met Ronon's eyes screamed seduction, but to Spencer her emotions read as detached and flat. Either she had some method of blocking his perceptions, or she was merely going through the motions.

As soon as she left, an older man in white took her place. "Kindest greetings, noble Ronon. My name is Mishtana, and I offer my services in soothing body and soul. Through scents and song, I have a way with warriors and others with heightened senses. Perhaps you would join me for the evening meal in my home?"

"Um, no, thanks," Ronon said.

"You know, I'm the one who designed the security system for your Ring of the Ancestors to detect contaminated people or weapons," McKay announced before Sheppard stepped on his foot. "What? It's hardly fair that Ronon gets a statue and all the extra attention." Spencer couldn't hear what Sheppard whispered in reply, but from the softening of McKay's expression, he'd bet Beckett's name was mentioned.

Mishtana raised an eyebrow at Ronon, completely ignoring McKay, before he gracefully took his leave.

Another man dressed in flowing white approached. Spencer could feel how his lover took a deep breath and stood up straighter as their arms brushed together. Their bond gave a comforting tug as they faced the awkward situation together. The third comforter looked from Ronon to Spencer and then back to Ronon before he spoke. "I would be untrue to myself if I did not tell you how greatly I admire your defense of my people." The man wove his hands together before him in a gesture that possibly signaled gratitude. "My name is Dallorian, and while I wish to offer my services in relaxation and sensual touch, I believe that gift might not suit you at this time. It is an open offer, as heartfelt offers should be. Beyond that, while I am not a teacher by trade, I would offer to demonstrate techniques with my partner if you wish to practice with your own partner, at any level of intimacy you deem appropriate."

The thought behind the offer impressed Spencer, but when Ronon looked to him for a reaction, Spencer couldn't help but tense.

"Probably not," Ronon said, "but thanks."

When a black clad man immediately took Dallorian's place, Spencer feared his lover would now have to entertain offers from guards as well as comforters. Instead the man introduced himself as, "Paranok, Head of Security. If you would accompany me, I will show you what we have so far."

#

"How many people touched these arrows?" Spencer asked without touching. Two arrows, stained with dried blood were displayed on a wooden tray. The room around them was cold stone and dimly lit.

Paranok stared at him silently with deep set eyes. He wasn't the same Head of Security from their previous visit. This one had short black hair and flat eyebrows that contrasted well with his tanned orange skin. The simple cut of his all black uniform was augmented by a short black drape across his right shoulder. His stiff body language seemed to be a near universal sign of incomprehension and not wanting to admit to any confusion.

"Was the wounded guard taken to your medical personnel with both arrows still in his chest?" At Paranok's sideways nod Spencer pressed on. "Did only one doctor touch both arrows to set them on this tray, and has anyone touched them since?"

"A courier carried the tray through the Ring and back and no alarm sounded," Paranok answered loudly, his shoulders relaxing back as if proud of giving the right answer.

"And no one has touched them since?"

"Perhaps some guards and curious council members," the Head of Security admitted honestly. "We trusted the alarm your people provided would warn us of the enemy poison. Are you saying it might not?"

McKay snorted and waved his augmented Life Signs Detector in a cutting motion. "Of course it works. I'm a genius. The device I designed for your Ring scans for contagions at a molecular level." He motioned with the LSD again, and Spencer wondered what scans he was running. "That was never in question."

Taking a deep breath, Spencer started over, adjusting for a culture that understood poisons and surgery but hadn't been raised with TV cop shows, fingerprinting, or forensics. "Each person has a unique set of fingerprints that are permanent over time. Where we come from, there are devices that might be able to find fingerprints on an arrow that could identify whoever shot it. Even partial or obscured prints might be useful to limit the pool of suspects. But if multiple people have handled a piece of evidence then the utility of any partial or complete print is reduced."

Paranok leaned closer to study the arrows. "Any marks made are in blood, which means they came after the arrow was shot."

"True, that means marks left in blood can be ruled out. However, the sweat glands on human fingertips produce a water-based oil solution that leaves behind a residue. Fingerprints that are invisible to the naked eye may be revealed with special scans, lighting, or when dusted with a fine powder."

Paranok rubbed his fingers together and examined his own fingertips. Spencer profiled the man as intelligent but very literal and practical. "You would need the council's permission to take the arrows from here."

"Too slow." McKay moved in closer. "I can scan the arrows down to 0.1 mm and send the images to both you and Beckett. That should be enough to detect any prints these idiots haven't destroyed."

Spencer realized that he had as much to learn about working with Ancient tech as the Shan Mal Head of Security had to learn about preserving a crime scene. While McKay ran his scans, Sheppard shrugged sympathetically at Paranok and said, "If you give us those official knives the councilor mentioned, we can stop taking up your time."

"If you don't mind," Teyla put in, "I would like to meet the other guards on duty before I speak with any other townspeople."

#

It was the hottest part of the afternoon when Spencer and his new team examined the crime scene around the Gate. If they were going to help with such investigations regularly, Spencer needed to train others in what to look for and how to log possible evidence. For the time being, he was happy to leave Teyla observing and questioning people in town and let McKay and Sheppard search the area closest to the Gate while he and Ronon searched farther out.

"What did you think of the arrows?" Spencer asked Ronon who was using his enhanced senses of smell and sight to try to track either the attacker or whoever had run through the Gate. It was possible they were one and the same person, but what little Spencer knew of archery suggested the arrows had been shot from farther away, most likely to protect whoever came through. Or the archer could have been aiming at whoever arrived, and initially hit the guard by accident. In that case, the new arrival had either escaped, or been shot and removed by the attacker.

"Nothing like the arrows pulled out of me," Ronon said while sniffing and studying the ground. "The stone and wood used by the archers from Utica was something I'd never seen before. The flint used here is common. I made flint knives as a Runner with better tips than on those arrows."

"So you think the attacker was an amateur and possibly a local?"

"Whoever made the arrows had some training. Chose good pieces of flint. Chipped them to a good point. Need to find out who learns that here. I haven't seen any stone blades. Looks like they make or trade for metal blades." He patted the official knife at his hip that Paranok had leant them. "Claim they don't have archers."

"I take it you were never taught to make or use a bow and arrow?"

Ronon shook his head and squatted to examine a thicket of bushes.

"How much training would it take to make just the arrowheads we saw?"

"A few days' training. A few weeks' practice. Leaves behind a pile of sharp flint chips, if we find where they made them. Might match up like the fingerprints, but not likely." Ronon stood and pulled a large clump of bushes aside. "Guessing you don't want me to touch this. Smells like only one person handled it much."

Ronon had found a bow hidden in the bushes.

With his eidetic memory, it was easy for Spencer to recall details of the bows from Utica for comparison. This wood was lighter and the carving not nearly as smooth. But there were finger grips in a reasonable position and a taut string that looked waxed as smoothly as any he'd seen. The bow was hidden in a bush less than 500 yards from the Gate, although not in line with where the archer must have shot from. "You are amazing. Can you keep hold of that bush while I take some photos with my tablet and send McKay our location?"

Ronon kept the bush pulled back without comment. "Think I could track the archer while you and McKay study the bow?"

Spencer's stomach clenched. "I don't like the idea of tracking an archer alone. Maybe Sheppard could go with you?"

"You taking the bow into town after it's scanned?"

Spencer smiled. Ronon clearly worried about leaving Spencer with just McKay at a crime scene. "You remember that McKay's a Sentinel and I'm a trained federal agent, right?"

"Don't want you leaving Teyla alone for too long." Ronon smirked and Spencer had to kiss him, crime scene and photography be damned. It wasn't like anyone was watching. Spencer wasn't sure if the tingly warmth that filled him from a simple kiss reflected their bond or how desperately he loved the man.

"You have no idea what you're interrupting!" McKay ranted as he and Sheppard approached. "I just discovered that Gate is sitting on deposits of neodymium greater than any ever found on Earth. What's more, some of it has formed alloys to function as magnets, what on Earth we call rare-Earth magnets, and hint: they don't occur naturally like that on Earth. The technology we could have developed if China hadn't had a stranglehold—High strength permanent magnets are the key to small motors needed for appliances, vehicles, computers."

"Could we possibly wait until after this investigation to suggest excavating under their Ring of the Ancestors?" Spencer suggested in the calm leader voice that sometimes worked with McKay. To improve his chances, he kept speaking without a pause. "I'm guessing they'll be feeling enough cultural upset if this bow Ronon found turns out to be locally produced. Could you scan for fingerprints as well as anything to suggest the origin and age of the wood? Meanwhile, I need Sheppard with Ronon to see if they can track the archer."

#

By late evening, Spencer and Teyla had obtained fingerprints for every member of the council and every guard in the city. They had rejoined McKay in the dim evidence room where they were showing the scans one by one to Paranok and the scholar from the council. Paranok stood behind them, silent and disinterested. The silver and black robed councilor, whose name turned out to be Shiriwan, insisted on seeing each expanded fingerprint image on their tablets, but he remained skeptical of their methods. Teyla had stepped into the role of reassuring diplomat after McKay insisted he couldn't "speak stupid any more in one day."

"But none of the guards or council members would do such a thing, so why collect all these fingerprints?" Shiriwan asked.

"As a leader, it is best to show oneself beyond reproach. This demonstrates your willingness to cooperate in the same ways that will be asked of any accused. If a match is later found, this will help to show how rare such a match must be."

"How do you know no one's fingerprints can change?"

Teyla looked to Spencer to explain. "My people have kept track of people's fingerprints in huge databases for over 100 years. A doctor had observed 500 years ago that no two people's fingerprints were identical, although in the case of identical twins they could be very difficult to differentiate. In all that time, no one's fingerprints were shown to change significantly, other than obstructions due to injury or infection." Spencer wanted to explain that Earth had records of over 30 million individual's fingerprints and that even fingerprinting every person on Shan Mal could only serve as a demonstration and not true proof of the concept, but he knew that even without discussing the math involved, mentioning a population of 30 million people would undermine whatever credibility Teyla was helping them to develop.

At that point Ronon and Sheppard tromped into the room, filthy with plant stains and mud ground into their clothes. Shiriwan wrinkled his nose and pulled both arms in closer to his body.

"Lost the trail at the creek." Ronon moved to stand beside Spencer as Sheppard shifted toward McKay. For an instant, the bond between them sang and Spencer imagined how loud it would be to anyone who could hear.

"Keep away," the scientist held his arms over his tablet. "You're trailing dust with every move."

"Good to see you too, McKay." Sheppard nodded toward Shiriwan. "We scoured both sides of the creek until dark and can try again tomorrow, but I doubt there's anything left to find."

"I would offer you the assistance of a guard gifted with enhanced senses, but given you found the hidden bow that all our guards missed, I'm guessing you have gifts of your own," Shiriwan said with a wave of his arm that was modest by local standards.

"We have our ways," Sheppard glanced at the tablets as if to imply their superior technology.

Shiriwan said only, "Yes, your scientific genius has been here all evening demonstrating some of the methods you use with these devices." It didn't take a profiler to notice that Shiriwan was explicitly not asking why Ronon and Sheppard were out tracking while the scanners and self-proclaimed genius were left behind. Spencer thought the councilor would be very surprised to find out McKay was the one among them gifted with all five enhanced senses, but they hadn't needed to drag him through the wilderness when Ronon was eager and more than capable as a Tracker.

"Now that everyone is here, lets discuss our preliminary profile. The size of the bow and spacing of fingerprints suggest our archer is smaller than any of us here," Spencer began. "The distance attack may have been necessary to overcome a perceived physical disadvantage and not solely to remain safe or anonymous. Based on the bow, arrows, and arrowheads, I'd say the attacker made his or her own weapons and could have learned about archery in the weeks since the Utica archers demonstrated their skills in battle here. While neither the weapons nor the skill level fit with those archers, it's possible you have a local copycat, someone who may have received pointers or training from a more skilled mentor."

"Then one of those archers is still hiding here." Shiriwan sat heavily on a stool in the guardroom, where they were surrounded by the evidence that had been collected so far.

"Or an archer could have been sent here as a scout before the attack and tried to recruit or train the current attacker, who's now operating independently. Either way, we might want to initiate large scale testing and immunization, just in case someone other than Alohabar was exposed before McKay's scanning device was installed on your Ring." Spencer switched back to information gathering. "Is there anyone local who might know enough to teach stone tool making or basic bow and arrow construction?"

"No. We knew nothing of archery until the Wraith clone's army came here," Shiriwan said.

Paranok cleared his throat.

"Do you have insight to offer?" Teyla asked, moving closer to the military man whom she'd worked with off and on during her afternoon in town.

"There are stories of projectiles and weapons to shoot farther than a throwing knife. Kids make slings and try to build catapults." The Head of Security didn't look at the councilor's face as he spoke. "There might be artisans or elders among the hill people who collect old weapons. I think I was shown an arrowhead as a boy."

"You're from the hills?" Shiriwan asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Rather than hedging, the Head of Security stood taller. "I visited relatives there as a child."

"Not the sort of relatives most families want."

"Summer's nicer, not so hot and humid up there." Paranok stepped back as if finished with his report. While Spencer could clearly sense the contempt emanating from Shiriwan, Paranok seemed pragmatically concerned. Overall, he was remarkably level headed for a military man, which caused Spencer to revise his view of the situation. Being unflappable and even tempered might be important if being the Head of Security on Shan Mal was akin to overseeing palace guards. That would also explain why the unobtrusive, black clad guards on Shan Mal were so ill equipped for battles or criminal investigations but did fairly well as bodyguards from what Spencer had seen in the past.

"It would help our investigation to know more about the different groups on this planet," Spencer suggested. He saw Sheppard smirk and set a hand on McKay's shoulder as the genius was no doubt preparing to say something offensive about wasting his time on squishy social perspectives.

"The core, contributing members of our society are the leaders, scholars, and comforters who live in this town and the farmers and ranchers who inhabit the lowlands around us. If anyone from our planet was involved in this attack, I doubt you'll find them among either of those groups. While I hesitate to speak ill of the hill people,"—McKay snorted. Sheppard elbowed him in the ribs. Shiriwan continued as if he hadn't noticed—"they are a bit less predictable. They cling to old superstitions and may behave impulsively. Still they are valued members of our society and provide some of our most treasured arts, crafts, luxury items, and specialty foods. I would categorize them as mostly harmless. Those who cause trouble here or among the hill people sometimes try to flee beyond the falls. There lies our furthest settlement, secluded in mountains so treacherous that their people trade with others through a series of drop boxes with ropes and pulleys. I personally doubt they would take in heretics, trouble-makers, or any outsiders. They value their privacy too highly. No has come out from their settlement in my entire lifetime, so I can't imagine they'd have any knowledge or role in the attack on our guard."

"Soooo," Sheppard drew out the word in a way only he could, "you're pretty sure the hill people did it?"

"If anyone from Shan Mal were involved, that would seem most likely."

"What do the people beyond the falls trade?" Spencer asked.

"Fabric." Shiriwan swished his sleeve in front of them. "There is none finer to be found on any world, and the secret of its manufacture is kept beyond the falls. A secret they've kept for hundreds, possibly thousands, of years."

On Earth, Spencer would have guessed the fine, shiny fabric that held such strong colors was synthetic. The mysterious manufacturing process reminded him of sericulture on Earth, where secrets had been kept by certain Chinese families for two thousand years, but the councilor's robes did not look like silk.

"Who carved the statue?" Ronon gestured toward the courtyard where the statue of him shooting from his knees was displayed.

"An artist among the hill people, Kapotesh. He is popular at present." Shiriwan yawned and didn't try to hide it.

"They make anything in stone or metal?" Ronon glanced pointedly at the official knives the Head of Security had provided to him, Sheppard, and Teyla.

"Not the people beyond the falls. Many hill people make smaller art pieces, but no weapons. We trade off world for high quality knives and then add our official mark." Shiriwan was already rising from his seat as he said, "Will that be all?" It didn't sound like a question.

"Do you have any maps that show these settlements and common routes between them?" Spencer asked.

Shiriwan motioned to Paranok.

The Head of Security stepped forward. "On the wall of our training room. I would be happy to show you if the councilor approves."

#

After McKay photographed the maps scratched into the walls of the training room, including the route along which Ronon and Sheppard had tracked the archer, they all returned to Atlantis for the night.

Atlantis tugged warmly at Spencer as he stepped through the Gate. It was a sort of omnidirectional hug that didn't trigger Spencer's touch sensitivities at all. He hadn't left and returned enough times to take the acceptance the city showed him for granted. Nothing on Sheppard's face gave away what he felt, but Spencer imagined it must be many times stronger, reuniting with his bond mate after being away.

After medical checks and a few minutes to clean up, Woolsey and Beckett joined them at the large triangular table in the meeting room. Woolsey looked less than pleased with the huge tray of sandwiches and the latest version of Pegasus potato chips set out in the middle, but he didn't complain.

"If the archer and whoever came through the Gate are heading for the hill settlements, there are only a couple of places they might have left the stream, at least according to the guards' map," Sheppard began, pointing to a projection on the meeting room wall of the guards' map. Even if Spencer was nominally in charge of the investigation, he was relieved to let Sheppard take charge of debriefing.

"Plus animal trails. Routes only locals know." Ronon took an overly large bite of his sandwich before continuing, and Spencer notice he turned to give Woolsey an excellent view. "Gonna be hard to track if they washed in the stream or rubbed with smelly plants. Or if there's heavy dew or rain overnight."

"Shiriwan's suspicions of the hill people seemed a bit excessive to me," Teyla said. "I also believe the guards are hiding something, although they did not appear to lie directly when answering my questions."

Spencer took notes the way he would on a whiteboard, only here he used a tablet linked up to project on the wall. "If I were to analyze their corporate culture, I'd say each member of the council has hidden agendas. Most likely those secrets involve trade interests or political factions. Nothing to suggest direct involvement in the shooting, but we can't rule it out."

"I'm no one's private detective, and the minerals under their Gate are more important that any fool with a bow." McKay was sharing time between his food and his tablet. He didn't look up as he spoke.

"Unless any of the archers from Utica or others from the infected army are hiding out or spread the contagion before the battle," Sheppard said.

"Do you think that's likely?" Woolsey asked.

When Sheppard only shrugged, Spencer took over. "It seems unlikely. Anyone left behind would have tried the Gate by now. The contagion drove those infected before to seek others like themselves within days, so anyone who knew there were others to find would try. However, the anomalous behavior of Lt. Phillips when stranded on Earth can't be ignored. On the off chance that someone on Shan Mal was infected and might seek to infect others, we need a plan to test, immunize, or both."

"Dr. Beckett, what do you think?" Woolsey looked at the doctor, the one other person at the table not eating.

"Testing is simple, but those who know they're infected might avoid it. Last time we had Juarez giving away second childhood immunizations and each recipient agreed to the test as well. Perhaps we could combine the new immunization with the one for second childhood while asking for a blood sample to test for other issues." Beckett looked toward McKay, and Sheppard guessed the scientist had pressed their legs together under the table, since both of McKay's hands were busy with food and his tablet.

"Whatever you think best. Send me the paperwork before they leave tomorrow." Woolsey's jaw tightened as he scanned the rest of them at the table. "That goes for all of you. I expect mission reports from today before your Gate time of 0900."

As Woolsey left, Spencer couldn't help but notice everyone else stayed seated.

"I'm sure you're all tired," Beckett said, "but perhaps we could gather at my place for hot chocolate and tea while we put together paperwork from today and plans for tomorrow."

Spencer had never been invited to Beckett's quarter's before, although he remembered the amazing hot chocolate Ronon had once delivered to him from the threesome. That had been back when Spencer was still guessing at Beckett and McKay's relationship, let alone Sheppard's role. He hadn't thought about whether it was part of some tradition or regular occurrence. Now he wondered exactly what they were being invited for.

"I would be honored," Teyla said, already tidying up her area.

Ronon grunted, "Sure," and he stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth.

Spencer got away with just a nod, as he was busy chewing.

#

The Chief Medical Officer's quarters turned out to be larger than any Spencer had seen on Atlantis, with a sitting area that included a long, padded bench and several chairs. He wondered if people came to Beckett in private about some matters and suspected the doctor had a substantial emergency kit stashed someplace. Glancing around, it was impossible not to notice an Ancient console in the middle of one wall as Sheppard gave it a stroke in passing. There was a large bed just the other side of the Ancient console, and Spencer would bet Sheppard slept on that side if he slept over.

There was a counter with a sink in one corner, as well as a mini refrigerator and hot plate from Earth. Beckett set to heating milk and water for hot chocolate and tea as everyone else sat down and pulled out laptops or tablets.

"Might be hiking a bit tomorrow. Pack to sleep rough a couple nights." Ronon tapped a couple spots on his screen, then set his seldom used tablet aside. He'd somehow convinced Woolsey he couldn't do more than check a couple of boxes for his reports. Spencer would love to see the Commanding Officer's face if he ever found out Ronon had been a poet in his youth.

"Not me," McKay shook his head until it was almost a shuddering motion. "I'll stay in town and study what's under their Gate."

"Shiriwan's instant blame of the hill people did not sit well with me. I could keep an eye on events in town and around the Gate if we wish to split our team." Teyla accepted a cup of tea from Beckett, bowing her head over it.

"Were people comfortable with the way I split us up today? I realize I'm nominally in charge while acting in my role as Consulting Detective." Spencer saw Ronon smile at the title, as he always did, being an unabashed fan of Earth television and movies. "But I realize you've all worked as a team for years. I can't pretend to be much of a leader, and I don't want to interfere with a working team structure."

Sheppard slouched back with a huff as Beckett brought him and McKay hot chocolate. Ronon placed a broad hand on Spencer's back and rubbed up and down. Beckett returned with chocolate for Spencer and Ronon, then picked up his own tea and sat. "Being part of a team isn't about who's been there the longest. None of them would leave you behind or at risk any more than they'd risk me or each other."

Taking a sip of his chocolate, Spencer tried to find words. Beckett's earnest acceptance, even if he might be wrong about the rest of the team, stirred something in Spencer that he barely understood. His uncertainty could have turned good or bad, but Beckett's amazingly rich chocolate was a force unto itself. It was impossible to feel bad with warm chocolate and perfect homemade whipped cream lingering in his mouth. He wiped at his upper lip.

Teyla passed him a napkin and said, "You would have been family anyway, given your bond with Ronon. However, you have more than proven yourself on this team, from your first negotiations on Paca."

"As a hostage," McKay put in, one hand flying over his tablet and the other wrapped around his mug rather than using the handle.

"You showed wisdom and compassion on every mission and in this city when you saved my son, among other acts." Teyla looked Spencer in the eye until he nodded in acknowledgement. "However you were treated in the past, do not doubt that we fully value your contribution to our team. That I have known the others longer, means only that I have more to look forward to in coming to know you better."

"Yeah, we got your back," Sheppard said. "And I'm sure someone"—Sheppard kicked at McKay, who ignored him—"will let you know if there are any issues. Now you're searching for one or two people on a planet we barely know. How do you want this to work?"

Spencer's eyes were damp, but he couldn't hide behind his chocolate if they wanted him to take charge and were all offering their support. "Splitting up into pairs worked well for my old team. If Beckett plans to send a medic…"

"I was thinking I'd send Juarez. He was there with you before, and if I don't miss my guess, he may have a personal interest in studying these gifts." Beckett rose and fetched a tin of cookies. They were small and brown and looked homemade to Spencer.

"Ginger snaps!" McKay practically pounced.

"Should we be worried about Juarez finding out too much?" Sheppard asked.

"I've talked with him a bit. He was with Stargate Command before coming to Atlantis and knows a thing or two about what does and doesn't get written down." Beckett nudged the cookies toward Spencer and Ronon until they each took one. "Once he sorts himself out, I suspect we'll have a longer talk."

"You have a guess as to his gifts?" Spencer asked.

"I wouldn't say if I did, but I will say he's a fine medic and I personally trust him."

"Okay then," Spencer said, "Teyla and Juarez could start in town, follow up on social undercurrents and anything medical that turns up. Sheppard and McKay can look around the Gate and then maybe talk with some nearby farmers, listen for rumors about outsiders or hostilities toward the guards or others. Ronon and I can hike into the hills with backpacks and camping supplies. If no one objects, I'd like to have a Jumper ready in case we need back up. At some point we might try flying a survey to rule out any hidden infection cluster or unexpected populations. We might also want to offer medical help and immunizations to the hill people, depending on what we find. Everyone should carry bags and gloves, to bag and tag possible evidence. Do we think communicating by radio is secure for discussing leads?"

"Unless some infected deserter left behind tech we have no evidence they used," McKay snorted, his top lip coated with whipped cream. Teyla passed him a napkin that he ignored. "Still, we have encryption no one can break without capturing one of our radios."

"So, don't lose any radios. Don't contaminate a crime scene or evidence. Anything else?" Sheppard asked.

"Did you make these cookies?" Spencer blurted out. They were spicy and crisp. When he sipped his chocolate after taking a bite, it was the best combination he'd ever tasted.

"Why yes," Beckett said warmly. "I take it you like them?"

"Yes, thank you. Did I tell you about the dinner group we started?" Spencer knew he was babbling but couldn't contain it any longer. "It began with me wanting to learn about Indian cooking, but it turned out to be a great opportunity for community building. It kept going all on its own momentum with French and then Burmese dishes being shared. Now I want to suggest a dessert group, because you make the best hot chocolate and the best cookies I've ever tasted. It's like being a kid again, but better." Spencer shut himself up as his own words hit a bit closer to home than he'd intended.

#

_Spencer bought a tube of cookie dough with money he'd saved for emergency groceries. In the first few months after his dad left, there had been weeks when his mom's schizophrenia kept her from grocery shopping or even leaving the house. They'd run out of food he knew how to make. Then they'd run out of food entirely. After that, Spencer learned to save any money he could. He carried old shopping lists in his mom's handwriting and pretended she'd given him money to do the family shopping._

_On the day he bought the cookie dough, they'd lasted over a year without anyone calling Child Services. His mother had been having a good week, and had promised Spencer the night before that she'd have two dozen cookies ready for him to bring to the science fair. Evidently it was tradition that the physics students provided the cookies each year, and his teacher would downgrade any project by a student who forgot._

_Spencer hadn't forgotten. As soon as he'd arrived home and seen the dark, empty house, he'd known his mom had hidden away in her room again. For once, he hadn't gone up to check on her. He'd rushed to the nearest convenience store and bought prepackaged cookie dough._

_Now he had two dozen slices on a cookie tray and was waiting for the oven to preheat._

_The stairs creaked as his mom made her way down. She was shaking and holding a Gutenberg statuette in one hand as if to whack a burglar._

_"It's okay mom, it's just me, Spencer."_

_"Spencer, is it really you?"_

_"Yes, mom. I'm just baking cookies."_

_"No, no. You can't use the oven. It's too cold to open the windows and the gases will kill us both." She rushed at the oven with the statuette raised over her head._

_Spencer quickly shut the oven off. "It's okay. I've turned it off." He stood between her and the oven, not wanting her to damage the statuette, the oven, or herself. Her unwashed body pressed against his, over a foot taller than his ten-year-old self. Slowly, he turned to edge her toward the dining table. "Sit down and I'll make us some soup."_

_"Use the microwave, not the oven."_

_"Of course, Mom. Here, have some water."_

_He set water in front of her, and pulled out a can of soup. Then he slid six cookies, all that would fit, onto the toaster oven tray. He asked his mother questions about Gutenberg and his movable type printing press to distract her as he made his cookies half a dozen at a time and snuck her medication into her soup._

_By the time they'd finished dinner, the last of his tiny batches of cookies was ready. He added them to the other eighteen on the plate without quite enough time for them to cool. They were misshapen and a bit burnt on some edges, but at least they looked homemade._

_Yesterday, his mom had been excited about the science fair, but today she was in no shape to attend. He hated to lie to her, but he couldn't risk anyone finding out how sick she was. She'd told him so herself on her better days._

_"Go ahead and get ready for bed, Mom. I need to run these cookies down to school. They're hosting some event for next year's freshman."_

_"You shouldn't go out after dark—"_

_Spencer cut off the protest before she could grab him and sob for him to stay home. He was already going to be late. "I'll be right back. We'll sit on your bed and recite Malory's tales to each other."_

_"Oh, poor Malory. Even if he was a scoundrel, his writing is a gift to all. Have I told you—"_

_"I'll be back by nine, Mom. I'll come to your room and listen to whatever you want to tell me."_

_As she made her way quietly up the stairs, Spencer swallowed back his tears. His mother had so much to give and deserved so much better than he could give her._

_Picking up his plate of barely passable cookies, Spencer rushed off into the night._

#

"Aye, lad. I'd be happy to help host a dessert group." Beckett had leaned in closer, while Spencer was caught in his memories. "My mum was always one for feeding people, and happy to indulge those who liked something sweet. It would have pleased her to know I can continue that tradition here."

"Thanks," Ronon said, also tucked in closer to Spencer than he'd realized. "Think we all need sleep now."

"Yeah, thanks for all this," Spencer said as they cleared their dishes to the counter and Beckett shooed them away.

On their way down the hall, Ronon kept Spencer close and steered him toward Ronon's room. Once inside he pulled Spencer close. "Stay here tonight."

"I'd like that." They spent their nights together whenever their shifts permitted, most often in Ronon's quarters.

Ronon petted Spencer's hair, offering comfort without any need to ask why. It seemed impossible that someone from such a different background could understand Spencer so well. "Was I that obvious?" Spencer asked.

"Your appreciation was obvious. Your sincerity." Ronon started untucking Spencer's shirts, undoing the buttons at his wrists. "I'm glad we came back to Atlantis for tonight."

"You have something in mind?" Spencer asked, not particularly needing sex, but happy to follow Ronon's lead.

"Seeing you grow closer to the team. Holding you close to me. Loving you any way I can." Ronon made quick work of the buttons over Spencer's chest and each touch seemed to reverberate inside him.

"I didn't know it could be like this."

"I like seeing you find out."

They drifted into silence as they helped each other with the rest of their clothes. Ronon's were still filthy from tracking the archer, and they both needed to wash before bed. They showered together, and while Spencer thought it might become sexual at several points, it never did. Instead they found comfort in warm water, touch, and each other. When they fell asleep naked and wrapped tightly together, Spencer felt content in a way he'd never experienced before.

#


	2. 2

"Wait, someone muskier and <buzz> has been—" Ronon's use of a new Satedan word that Gate translation didn't work on distracted Spencer as a rope buried in the forest detritus tightened around his ankles. Then he was falling. First his ass then his back hit the ground hard as he was yanked forward and up. It was only instinct that tucked his head in toward his chest. Spencer found himself upside down, dangling from his feet, disoriented and wondering how he'd been captured again.

A voice from the trees called out, "Lower your weapon if you're not here to kill anyone."

Ronon adjusted his blaster toward the voice. "No deal. Let him go now."

As he rotated, hanging upside down, Spencer studied the forest around them. He wasn't trained to spot hidden attackers or traps in such a place. Tracking was both Ronon's gift and a skill he'd developed over years as a Runner.

Spencer instead had a knack for being captured. All he could spot while dangling was a very fluffy bird that looked like a round owl, with orange skin slightly visible beneath the white feathers at its neck. He couldn't identify an archer or anyone else in the direction of the voice or elsewhere.

"Please, both of you. Try to act your age, not your distraction time." That voice was sharper and came from a different direction. In a flash Ronon had the guard's knife that they'd been lent clutched in his spare hand and pointed at the new threat.

"Please, Ronon. Let's try talking first. No one's done us any harm yet." Without giving Ronon time to reply Spencer continued, "Whoever's out there, all we really want is to talk to people. My name is Spencer Reid. My friend is Ronon Dex. The council asked us to help them and lent us the official knife Ronon is holding to show we're here with their approval. We definitely didn't come with the intention of harming anyone, but in situations of sudden threat a biological fight or flight response is often triggered. I suspect you have your own name for that response. What you called distraction time sounds a lot like what I'd call attention span. We probably have quite a lot in common if you could give us a chance to talk this out."

"Batavo, let him down." The second, sharper voice cajoled. "He's a Spirit Leader, listen to him talk. Besides, his spirit guide is a fierce little thing that might not forgive us much more of this."

Spencer was surprised by the casual identification of what he assumed was his spirit animal, a blond and white ferret. He barely caught a glimpse of it on his next rotation, in the lower branches of tree with the fluffy bird. But they'd known various gifts were more common on Shan Mal. It seemed best to stay quiet and save any questions about spirit animals for later.

"He's obviously not hurt if he can talk like that," the original voice, Batavo, said. "Tell us what business the council thinks they have out here."

All the blood rushing to his head and the slow spinning motion as he hung upside down made it hard for Spencer to focus on his audience or to strategize. He kept his tone relaxed, mostly to calm Ronon, and to keep him from testing out the self-defense clause prematurely. "Someone shot a guard with a bow and arrow. They asked us to investigate, and some clues led us this way."

"What's your interest?" Batavo asked.

"I'm an investigator of sorts. The council knew us from a previous investigation. We helped fight off an army that came through your Ring of the Ancestors a few weeks ago, and some of them had bows and arrows. So the council thought the new investigation might be related or we might at least have useful skills to contribute." Spencer hoped he sounded calm and self-assured. In reality, his legs and head were starting to hurt. Ronon's anxiety and anger pounded like heavy bass across their bond.

"Oh, Ronon Dex must be the model for Kapotesh's statue. I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Dostovo. I am the local Spirit Leader, which makes me especially glad to meet you, Spencer Reid." The voice was even sharper as the Spirit Leader, Dostovo, let out his excitement. "Let him down, Batavo, or I'll come out and do it myself."

"Sheath your weapons," Batavo said.

Ronon complied, but kept his hand near each grip.

With a sudden jerk Spencer was falling. The ground rushed toward his pounding head.

Before he could hit, Ronon scooped him up and turned defensively to face the stalky man now standing in plain sight.

"Put me down. I'm fine." Spencer tapped at Ronon's arm. Sensing through the bond how protective his bond mate was feeling, he didn't try to physically pull away. Then Spencer's ferret came rushing into the small clearing, followed by a deer-like creature with antlers that looked familiar from the battle at the Gate. "Set me down. The spirit animals are here."

As soon as Spencer's feet touched the ground his ferret twisted in happy circles around his ankles. Then it ran between the deer's feet and right up to an enormous boar with long tusks that was standing beside Batavo. The fierce creature lowered its head meekly and met the ferret sniff for sniff.

"I'm coming down, too." There were scraping sounds as Dostovo climbed down from a tree. Then he emerged behind his deer, a tall man whose orange tinge was nearly hidden by the hairiness of his arms, a thick beard, and long black hair, pulled back neatly into a thick braid. "Your spirit guide is still hiding from us, Ronon. I apologize for the rudeness of our first encounter, but I assure you we could never mean harm to your Spirit Leader."

"When I use the term 'Guide' does it translate as 'Spirit Leader' to you?" Spencer asked.

"Not quite." Dostovo flipped his hands up and down in a gesture smaller than any the council members used, and even more foreign to Spencer. "That term would apply more generally to those who easily reach the spirit plane. All Spirit Leaders must be Guides, but not all Guides are Spirit Leaders. A Spirit Leader builds consensus and understanding among many. A Guide's gifts focus primarily on their bonded one. A Spirit Leader can more easily see others' spirit animals, communicate with their own, and sometime sense others' gifts or bonds. I would take you to our settlement and speak or meditate with you to share more about this, if you wish."

Batavo let out a grunt at the same time as his boar.

"Guardians are more inclined to swift and decisive action," Dostovo continued, "which is why nature provides them with bond mates to temper their impulsiveness and heightened senses. Ronon, are you a Guardian?"

"Tracker."

"Oh, lucky you," Dostovo said, facing Spencer. "I bet he's considerate and loyal. Is his spirit animal a social species?"

"Hey!" At Batavo's protest, Dostovo swept over and wrapped himself around his shorter mate from behind, carefully not restricting the Guardian's arms. Spencer was amused that he sensed their bond with certainty the moment the two men touched.

Dostovo lowered his voice but made no pretense that they all couldn’t hear. "You know it would have been worse to have those useless guards, or even a council member, intruding up here. Our spirits will support justice, if needed, and much of our community will be excited, or at least curious, to meet another Spirit Leader."

"I'll watch our perimeter. Stay out of trouble," the Guardian said to his Spirit Leader. Then he glared at Ronon, "I'll be watching you."

As Batavo disappeared into the trees, his boar stayed behind with Dostovo and his deer. The ferret ran over to Spencer and easily climbed up to rest along his neck and shoulders.

"Would it help your investigation to be introduced around, or should I try to call everyone together to meet you?" Dostovo asked.

It wasn't a question Spencer could answer without knowing more about local customs, so he said, "Whatever you think is best, but ideally I'd like to speak to one person or household at a time. Is there anyone who might know how to make a bow and arrow or to work stone blades of any kind?"

"The flint artist, Ezikan." Dostovo's deer led them down what fittingly enough looked like a deer trail. "He'll be happy to talk shop with you. And there's a community hut near his place where you can stay a night or two if you would like. We don't get many visitors."

#

As they broke out of the forest, Dostovo gestured toward a sturdy log cabin. "Batavo and I live there, not that he's inside much."

Then he led them to the first in a series of raised platform tents with fabric sides. They were similar to those the scholars and comforters used in the city by the Gate, except the fabric appeared thicker and more durable. The walls on the one they'd been brought to might once have been a bright jade green, as suited the city aesthetic. Now it was faded and dusty, harmonizing more with the forest behind it.

"You are welcome to use this guest tent to store your belonging, rest, or stay a few nights. The community building"—he gestured down another path—"is also open to all if you prefer solid walls, but it is generally less pleasant at this time of year."

"Thank you, this looks very nice," Spencer said. He and Ronon left their packs inside, all of their valuable possessions and weapons already stowed in tac vest pockets or in Spencer's messenger bag.

Next they passed a round building with walls almost like a basket. Around it wove an elaborate series of trellises with bright fibers and cloths hanging from them. Some of the items were wet enough to drip on the ground. A blue and black bird flew away as they approached, and Spencer thought he saw a tuft of bright fiber in its beak.

"Mynapa works with wool. She may be inside or out with her herds." Dostovo gestured toward a fenced area in the distance where Spencer could see small furry animals grazing. "The woodcarver, Kapotesh, currently lives in a tree house beyond her herd areas. Sometimes there's a troupe of performers and tricksters that camp nearby along Fast Creek, but they're out touring now."

The butcher's and baker's shops were pointed out next, and they both clearly lived with large families in the same rambling buildings. Dostovo raised an arm and circled his hand in motions that might have been greetings, and those who weren't too busy working motioned back. No one approached seeking an introduction, and Spencer wasn't sure if that was due to local custom or something communicated by gesture.

Spencer almost laughed when the flint artist's home turned out to be made of stone. Most of the rocks seemed to have been fitted together more than shaped, but it was still an impressive beehive-shaped building.

"Ezikan, please greet our visitors," Dostovo practically shouted. Spencer wondered if the old stone worker might be hard of hearing or just easily absorbed by the way he chipped away at what appeared to be a small knife blade. Dostovo repeated his call as they drew nearer to the benches and tables that lined the yard in front of the stone house.

Standing slowly, with a bit of a stoop, Ezikan stretched his back and blew on his hands before approaching them. "Greetings, I am Ezikan, stone artist and tool maker."

"Greetings, I am Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective." He looked to Ronon thinking they should each introduce themselves if he were reading the situation correctly.

With what felt like amusement across their bond, Ronon said, "Greetings, I am Ronon Dex, tracker and military specialist."

"Someone who might appreciate a good knife. How can I help you?" The old man seemed to stand straighter as time passed. He adjusted the leather apron he wore and openly studied the leather bracers on Ronon's arms. Then his eyes landed on the knife the guards had lent them. "Do you work for the city guard?"

When Ronon huffed in dissent, Spencer said, "Because we helped stop an attack that involved archers before, they called us to investigate a recent attack by an archer on a guard at the Ring. We hoped you could tell us who around here might make arrow tips or use a bow and arrow."

"I don't know any archers here. Probably an outsider." The man showed no interest in helping.

"The arrow tip we found could have been made by almost anyone who'd learned flint napping. Can you tell me how common that skill is?"

"Most near here would leave it to me. I'm likely to have what they need or have the stone to make it right away. But lots of kids or new people want to learn at some point. I'd never stop anyone from learning what I know. Some who live farther out or more solitary may use their skills more, and I've trained a few apprentices in my time."

"Apprentices?" Spencer asked.

"Most people apprentice in one or more crafts while they're young, and about half change their minds and want to add something new if they live a bit. Me, I'm happy to learn cooking or sewing or beading or leatherwork, but I've always liked stone best. I never traded for anything stone. Just studied it or imagined it and then practiced until I could make it. There's a box of things I've made by the corner of the house. My apprentices took whatever they made with them, knowing how I am. Though I let Elowak gift me this." He held out a pendant worn on a leather thong around his neck. It looked like a bird carved from shiny green stone, something like jade.

"That's beautiful," Spencer said sincerely.

"Elowak enjoys the challenge of small objects, but <buzz> makes excellent tools, too."

"Sorry, what did you say?" Spencer prompted, wondering at the word Gate translation had missed.

The old carver cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. "I said, Elowak enjoys the challenge of small objects, but nen makes excellent tools, too."

"The word 'nen' doesn't seem to translate well for me. Could you explain what it means?"

The upper half of Ezikan's face scrunched into additional wrinkles, and a hand at his side fluttered. He looked to Dostovo who'd been standing quietly to one side.

Dostovo flipped a hand palm up and made a squeezing gesture. "I don't know. I'm sure I must have used it on our way into town."

A pulse of understanding and reassurance washed through the bond. Ronon managed in English, "He, she, it." Then he switched to Satedan to say, "In Satedan we also have 'le.' Elowak may not be he or she but something else that doesn't translate to le either."

Dostovo volunteered, "I can hear you saying different words now, but before I heard them all as nen. Still, I know the concept of which you speak. We use the same placeholder for all where other languages may use many."

"I didn't know Ring translations could do that." Spencer practically bounced with excitement. "Your language must have gender-neutral pronouns. But the Ring translated them to be gender specific, probably based on what you knew of the person you were indicating. I wonder if I knew another language, like Finnish or Armenian if it would have translated the word 'nen' into one of those." He noticed Ezikan had gone very still and quiet. "Sorry, sometimes I ramble about topics that interest me."

"You like learning," Ezikan said slowly. "I like stone more than words, but I respect the desire to learn."

"Could you show us some of the things you make and maybe some basics you'd teach beginners?" Spencer asked.

As Ezikan moved to squat beside a large chest that sat near the stone wall of his home, a mostly naked girl came running up to help open the lid. "If you're over here barefoot, you need to put out a mat," the carver said.

The girl—who Spencer profiled as ten to fourteen due to minimal physical development before his brain balked at assigning Earth ages—had hair almost as orange as her skin. She wore only a tied piece of leather, like a loin cloth, and immediately turned to unroll a long, woven mat that had been tucked under a bench. She seemed to know how exactly long it was as it unfurled like a red carpet leading her directly to the now open chest.

"Greetings, I am Lalowen," the girl said as she knelt beside the chest and began to carefully lift items onto the ground in front of the mat. No one else seemed concerned by her nakedness, and Spencer had visited communities within the United States where younger children ran around naked or barely clothed. It was easy enough to extend that cultural context to include this older child.

"Nen might be my next apprentice," Ezikan said, "If nen can ever be bothered to wear clothes again."

The girl just laughed as she lifted a small green lizard out of the chest she was unpacking. Spencer's mind had moved on to reconsider the local language. "Does it mean anything that Lalowen has the same middle syllable as Elowak or that Dostovo has the same last syllable as Batavo?"

Ezikan and Lalowen showed no interest in answering as they carefully set each stone item upon the ground as if performing some sort of ritual. Dostovo moved to stand on the opposite side of the chest and said, "The first syllable of a name comes from one parent's lineage. The second may come from another parent's lineage or from that of a caregiver who took responsibility for raising the child. At any phase of life, the last syllable of a person's name denotes their current family group. Thus Batavo and I must have the same last syllable. Lalowen was raised by the parent who gave birth to Elowak. That parent could have given them different lineage names going back many generations, but nen chose to give them both 'lo.'"

Spencer was fascinated that what he'd taken as personal names actually included family names and lineage. "So Elowak would have been Elowen while nen still lived with nen's mother?"

Lalowen laughed again but didn't look up from the rapidly emptying chest.

Dostovo smiled as he said, "They were Elowet and Lalowet when they lived with Milowet. Elowak now lives with a triad in the valley. Lalowen lives in the young people's camp by Slow Creek, where their names all end with -en. Also, we wouldn't say 'nen's' parent, just 'nen' parent or use your own words."

Spencer noted the even more limited distinction in pronouns as well as the reiteration of the word "parent" where he'd assumed "mother." He wanted to ask more about the young people's camp and parental and caregiver structures, but he suddenly worried that he was not only being unprofessional but rude. "I'm sorry. I just realized we didn't introduce ourselves." He turned to face Lalowen. "Greetings. I am Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective."

Ronon introduced himself, but Dostovo said, "Don't worry. We are understanding of many ways of being here. Be yourselves. Ask questions. Learn what warms your interest. We don't expect you to know our ways. Half the kids in Lalowen's youth family didn't grow up here. They come with varied habits to try out new identities, explore possible interests, develop their gifts, talents, or senses. Many adults from different backgrounds come here also, to stay a short while or forever. As a Spirit Leader, you would always be welcome, Spencer Reid. And I can already tell Ronon Dex is worthy of your regard and ours."

Spencer stopped himself from suggesting Dostovo could just call him Spencer. In a place where everyone else used three syllables, it seemed better to stick with their three syllable equivalents. "Thank you. I hope we won't disappoint you." Spencer tried to bite back the million questions filling his head as he watched Lalowen shape grasses with large seeded tops so she could pull a loop and shoot the seed top like an arrow.

Meanwhile, Ezikan was pounding a small piece of metal, almost like a nail, into the end of a long stick. He then looped a long leather cord with a wider pocket in the middle so one end was around the stick and the other around the metal. He handed it to Lalowen who wrinkled her nose. "Practice," he said. So she picked up a rock and stood to use the device that worked like a sling shot, except Lalowen had to swing the stick rather than pulling back on a rubber band. She did not look happy with her aim or how far the rock flew into the nearby forest.

"You do it," she said to Ezikan, trying to hand him the stick with the long sling.

"My shoulders and back are not made for that anymore," he grumbled.

"Hah!" she said.

"Let me try," Dostovo said, picking up a rock. "I haven't done this in years." His shot went a lot farther than Lalowen's, but Spencer could see how it curved out of line from the stick's momentum at the point where the sling released. "Do you want to try?" He offered the stick sling to Spencer.

"I'd probably either hurt myself or something cute, fluffy, and possibly sacred out in the forest."

"I think we've scared away anything cute and fluffy by now, and anything sacred around here won't be hurt by a rock." Nonetheless, Dostovo turned to Ronon, "Would you like to try?"

Ronon accepted and without a word sent a rock slamming hard into a distant tree.

"You’re the one in Kapotesh's statue," Ezikan said. "Should have known. Here let me show you what I made in order as I was learning this craft."

They all gathered around as Ezikan explained various blades and styles of stone art, as well as how he'd learned to make them. Spencer watched closely, using his eidetic memory to remember as much detail as possible.

When Ezikan finished, Spencer brought out his tablet and showed him an enlarged picture of the arrowhead that took down the Gate guard. "Any thoughts on who might have made this?"

While Lalowen and Dostovo crowded close and stared, Ezikan studied the image without apparent concern for the technology displaying it. "Half the kids here could do that if they tried, most of the adults who grew up here if they remember what I taught them. No one who frequently works with flint would take that many strokes to hone the point."

"But you haven't seen anyone working on something like this or found anything similar around here?" Spencer asked.

"No." Ezikan shook his head slowly, and Spencer was pleased but surprised that at least that gesture was the same. "Can't even tell anything useful from the stone. Flint like that could have come from anywhere."

"That's what Ronon said, too. But it's nice to have expert confirmation." Spencer started to put the tablet away, but Lalowen stared at it with wide eyes and asked, "Could you teach me how that works?"

"It will only play a few games for anyone other than me." He brought up the screen McKay had made for collecting fingerprints. It showed five ovals and was set to offer rewards in the form of games like tic-tac-toe or Tetris once all five fingerprints were scanned. "Press your finger like that and speak your name. If you're clear enough with both, it will show you a game."

While Lalowen quickly found her way to the game and Dostovo watched. Ezikan said, "Seems the expert you need is whoever makes arrows."

"Is there anyone more likely than you to have heard if such a person had passed through?"

"Not really, but you could try the youngsters' camp. Lalowen should be heading back for lunch. I'm sure nen would be happy to show you the way." Ezikan looked toward the work he'd set aside when they arrived, and Spencer guessed they'd interrupted him long enough.

Lalowen ignored them all until she finished her game. As she offered the tablet to Dostovo, the long look she gave the stone artist was at best resigned. Spencer wondered if she didn't want to escort them to the youth camp or if she'd been hoping to stay longer with the stone carver. But she knelt to return each stone item to the chest in a practiced order, and it was clear she valued those items as much as the tablet she'd just discovered.

"Could we trade you something for your time or possibly for one of the knives you sell?" Spencer asked, trying to be polite.

"I can see Ronon Dex carries better blades already, and not just the official one loaned by the city guards. I wouldn't want to be beholden to you or them. Your desire to learn fits my desire to teach. That seems sensible to me. What I don't understand is why anyone would want to shoot a guard by the Ring with an arrow of all things. If it wasn't already their weapon of choice, it seems needlessly complicated."

Spencer wondered as well. There must be something wrong with his profile of the unsub. It was possible they should seek an expert archer, even if they had to visit another planet to gauge the skill level required to shoot a guard twice with a bow and arrow that reflected a much lesser skill in manufacture. On Earth he would consider suspects who'd trained or competed in archery recreationally but might not have access to the bows they'd trained with, but that profile didn't match their current population.

Spencer's train of thought snapped when Dostovo handed back the tablet and said, "If you don't mind, I have a few people who are ill or in mourning that I should check on." He gestured to a small hut nearby with a scent like herbs or incense wafting out of it. "Perhaps I can catch up with you after lunch?"

Once Dostovo left, the stone artist gave the tablet a quick try at Spencer's request, while the analyst watched a flock of birds circle high in the sky. The distance and bright sunlight made it hard to tell, but Spencer thought they might be more like pterosaurs than birds, which reminded him of one of the spirit animals they'd seen rush to defend the Gate during the invasion.

Ronon nudged Spencer gently to bring his attention back from the sky and the past. Ezikan had returned the tablet and Lalowen was already leading them away. Spencer and Ronon had to hurry as they followed her to the edge of town and then along a creek. She moved fast, dodging around bushes and sometimes jumping from rock to rock near the water. But she stopped whenever Spencer was too slow, and she didn't give any sign Spencer could recognize to suggest she was uncomfortable with the situation.

Spencer tried to set aside his cultural misgivings about two men, strangers to the local community, being told to follow a mostly naked girl to where other young people lived. Whatever uncertainty surrounded his profile of the unsub, Spencer was sure the person was small. Meeting and collecting data on younger, smaller people was necessary to the investigation. Perhaps it would seem less awkward around a whole group of naked people rather than just one very fast moving girl.

#

Lunch in the young people's camp overturned Spencer's assumptions once again. Very few of them ran around uncovered like Lalowen. On average, they wore more pieces of clothing than any group he'd ever seen: small straps, belts, scarves, and pieces of cloth wrapped in creative ways. One teen had aligned over twenty bands of different colors in rows that covered from just below her armpits to the middle of her thighs. He wondered if the kids all had to make their own clothing and preferred tying and winding to sewing or knitting. Many of them seemed to overlap layers and tiny ornaments, sometimes rows of similar items in varying colors or materials. There was also a clear preference for body art on exposed skin, making those like Lalowen seem even more naked by comparison.

A tall, very thin teenager—at least Spencer would have guessed him as no more than eighteen in Earth years due to his gangly build and baby face—jogged up beside Ronon before anyone else had a chance.

"Greetings, I'm Dugonen, body artist. Will you teach me about your marks? Are they permanent? Are they all black?" As he spoke, Spencer noted that the boy had visible body art at his wrists and ankles in red, black and yellow. Compared to a few other teens, that was minimal.

Ronon grunted. "Greetings, I'm Ronon Dex, a warrior. This belongs to my family from Sateda." He pointed to the pattern of triangles on his arm. "This shows my Satedan military rank of specialist, with the curves added later to mark my union with Spencer Reid." Ronon pointed to the elements on his neck from memory and then to Spencer.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer opened his collar enough to show the mark near the base of his neck that matched Ronon's. A pulse of connection warmed Spencer across their bond. "Greetings, I'm Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective."

"Spencer Reid!" Lalowen called to him from beside a long table full of food and surrounded by people.

Spencer hurried to catch up with her as Dugonen slowed Ronon with repeated questions about his tattoos. Before Spencer even reached Lalowen, the people around her started to introduce themselves one after another. All of Spencer's focus was taken up by committing to memory names, appearances, and occupations when they were given. Only one woman present looked significantly older. She introduced herself as Tantamok, cheesemaker and farmer. There were at least a dozen Spencer would definitely classify as teens and another four around Lalowen's age or younger. One of the youngest said, "We're sampling cheese and sharing squeaky curds we made ourselves!"

Spencer noticed that several items on the table appeared to be solid or spreadable cheeses. "Greetings, I am Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective. I would love to learn more about cheese making and get to know all of you."

"Do you have a plate and knife?" a teen of indeterminant gender with very colorful body art and clothing asked. By the time Spencer placed the speaker as "Doranten" who had not given an occupation, nen had moved on to say, "You can use mine. I have extras."

Spencer realized the pronoun 'nen' had already broadened his vocabulary, at least in his thoughts. He managed to say "thank you" and make eye contact as he was handed a wooden plate and flint knife. The quality of the knife suggested it was made by Elowak or someone of similar skill.

"Could you tell me how you refer to the ages of people living here and what roles adults fill in the young people's camp?"

"Ages as in seasons?" Doranten asked, forehead wrinkling to show how odd the question seemed to nen. "Or that they must have entered first maturity but not yet taken on adult responsibilities? That doesn't always go with seasons, you know? Many of us in second maturity can act as parents, and even those who aren't apprenticed will form connections to adults in local households. Then there's usually someone like Tantamok coming by." Doranten waved an arm embellished with a sunrise in the direction of the smiling cheesemaker.

Before Spencer could find an inoffensive way to ask what first and second maturity might denote, other people started offering him slices of cheese, breads and vegetables dipped in what he presumed were also cheeses, as well as a few items he couldn't identify. He tried to learn about each new food and thank each person individually, but at one point there were two teens putting food directly onto his plate as a smaller one climbed across the table to add a third item. As the noise level escalated, it was all Spencer could do not to run from the noise and crowding.

He was more than grateful when Lalowen claimed him saying, "He'll sit with me." Pinching the long sleeve of the shirt he wore under his tac vest, she led him to a long, shaded table with benches where others quickly shifted to make room for them both. Another round of introductions ensued. Then Lalowen presented him with a dark red fruit that resembled a large plum. "Thank you for letting me play games on your picture thing earlier."

"You're welcome, but you don't have to give me anything for that. When people play the games it helps me with my work."

"How?" she asked.

Spencer didn't want to explain to everyone about fingerprinting, so as not to warn the unsub. But introducing video games already raised enough ethical questions that Spencer wanted to be as honest as practicable. "It helps me keep track of all the people who live around here and who I come into contact with."

"You want everyone to play it? I could take it around and show them how."

It was a good offer, but amidst the chaos of kids and teens climbing over and under tables and occasionally throwing food or other items, he thought his tablet might be damaged or lost. "I'd appreciate your help in showing others and making sure as many as possible have a turn. But I need to protect the tablet from food, liquids, or being dropped. Perhaps as people finish eating they could play at this table where I could get to know those waiting for a turn?"

That was the beginning of one of the longest and most social afternoons Spencer ever endured. The young people were mostly open and seemed very honest and interested in learning and teaching any subject possible. But they were also very loud and often bumped or jostled each other and Spencer. He wasn't sure whether the loudest and most performative were trying to impress him or each other, but he witnessed knife tricks that terrified him and dances with provocative pantomime that he was pretty sure no parents on Earth would want to see their own kids perform. Spencer never tried to leave or interfere with anything that didn't threaten him personally. He was their guest and had no desire to judge their culture or self-expression. From his center seat on a bench at a long table, he felt sheltered and embraced by an age group that would have been hard for him to connect with in most Earth communities.

When a tall, wide-faced boy, crept up behind and grabbed the tablet out of the hands of the teen currently taking his turn playing games, most of the table screamed at the injustice. Spencer saw Ronon jump away from the table where he'd been surrounded by his own circle of admirers. Before the Tracker moved more than two steps, and before Spencer even started to rise, three other kids tackled the thief to the ground. While two held him down rather roughly, the third picked up the tablet and carefully brought it back to Spencer.

"Can you tell if it was hurt? We can call a negotiator if there is damage or if you are offended." By the end of the serious speech, the whole table had quieted to whispers. The scuffle on the ground had devolved to two larger teens sitting on the one who took the tablet, effectively holding him down as they waited to hear Spencer's answer. None of the young people acted as if the scuffle or minor theft that had led to it were unusual. The boy currently pinned to the ground seemed resigned to his fate and smirked as if he might have sought out the attention and excitement. Ronon and the group he'd been talking to moved to stand between the kids on the ground and Spencer, which seemed a bit excessive, but Spencer didn't comment.

Pulling a handkerchief from his vest, Spencer dusted the tablet off and logged in as himself. He found the section for diagnostics and ran the default program, even though he wasn't sure exactly what it did. A series of diagnostic dials filled one after the other, claiming everything tested was fine. Those close enough crowded around to watch as if this was a new and fascinating game. But no one asked any questions until Spencer said, "There doesn't appear to be any damage. So long as this doesn't happen again, I see no reason to be offended. Thank you and your friends for bringing this back to me safely."

As Spencer logged out and handed the tablet back to the teen whose turn had been interrupted, one of the older teens beside Ronon asked, "Does that come from the same people as the spaceship that dug a hole by our Ring of the Ancestors?"

After a moment's consideration, Spencer said, "It does, can you tell me how you deduced that?"

"I saw the carving Kapotesh made that had to be Ronon Dex. His blaster is unusual, but the Travelers carry similar. However, it was said the spaceship that defended us did not come from the Travelers, but from a people who offered protection from the second childhood. These mysteries all seem to connect to you and Ronon Dex, and I would like to learn whatever you will tell me."

"Please, join us. In case you didn't hear before, I'm Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective."

"Greetings, I am Solanen. I would like to learn about being a Consulting Detective."

On Earth, Spencer would have profiled the boy to be about sixteen, five foot ten, well educated, and very serious for his age. In his previous work, he would have needed to add a racial descriptor, but with everyone being some shade of orange, that was even more laughable here than guessing ages in Earth years and height in units no one local would understand. Solanen stood up straight and still, not nearly as tall as Ronon but slender in a way that suggested he might still be growing. His face was long and his eyebrows heavy over pale blue eyes. He wore a simple tunic with only one belt, but he had colorful swirls painted all along his orange arms and throat.

Other than Lalowen, the young people at Spencer's table who'd already had turns playing games cleared out to make room for Solanen and the others who'd come over with Ronon. While Ronon remained standing and Lalowen explained about the games and assigned the newcomers into an order of play, Spencer traded questions back and forth with Solanen.

"Is the way of making the game thing a secret I should not ask about?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not one of the people who makes them or even uses them that often, so I probably couldn't answer much. I mostly use it to take pictures or collect other information about places I visit."

"Can you fly the spaceship?"

Ronon twitched at the question, and Spencer remembered that several members of the expedition had been sought out or captured in the past for their ATA genes and ability to fly Ancient spaceships. But Solanen's curiosity seemed sincere. Spencer didn't suspect any deception, even if his gifts weren't currently offering empathic insight.

"I'm learning. Can you tell me why you know more than most of your cohort about our people and what happened at the Ring?"

Solanen spread his arms forward and out, in a gesture reminiscent of certain council members. "I hope to travel through the Ring to learn about people from other worlds, perhaps as a trader or a diplomat. For now, I am traveling and learning about people here. I try to learn all I can about others who visit here and about any places the few who travel from here have seen. I would like to learn more about spaceships and protections from dangers like the second childhood."

It was hard for Spencer to profile someone from such a different background, but Solanen seemed likely to be a reliable informant. "I gather this planet was cut off from others for several centuries to stay safe from the Wraith."

Solanen hesitated. "Perhaps. We were certainly isolated most of my life. I've heard some contradictory stories as to how and how long, but not all of those stories are mine to tell."

The slightly evasive wording felt like a challenge, to see how Spencer would respond. "I wouldn't ask you to betray any confidences, but you seem to have a good feel for how clues fit together. What do you think about your planet's isolation?"

"I believe that the school by our Ring teaches as the current council tells them to. Many elders tell stories about gifts and spirit plane happenings that must be only myths according to what we're meant to believe." Solanen sat up straighter as if proud of his own clever wording. "There are more foreign items in common households than I would expect if only the Travelers had visited. There are elders who lapse into languages that seem native to them when they doze or drink fermented beverages, but they don't seem to know the things a Traveler who grew up in space and decided to settle planetside would know. Of course, to disagree with the council or official teachings might limit future career or travel options, so I would never do such a thing." Solanen gave a small smile reminiscent of Spencer's old boss, Aaron Hotchner, who had been an attorney before joining the FBI.

"I wonder if you've seen anything or met anyone in your travels who might have learned or taught about archery or how to make bows and arrows?"

Solanen's brow furrowed in an expression that on Earth Spencer would have categorized as deep thought or possibly trying to come up with something impressive to say. He was less certain of his ability to read such expressions in this new environment, but as he waited he glanced around the table to see what other reactions he might spot.

Lalowen had gone silent and was biting her lips, something Spencer certainly hadn't seen her do in the several hours he'd known her. Rather than call her on it in front of her friends, he waited while Solanen and a few others offered ideas that didn't amount to much. Then he let the conversation drift until Dostovo came to claim him and Ronon.

At that point, Spencer collected his tablet, which was making a second circuit of those who'd most enjoyed the video games. He pulled Lalowen aside, removed a chocolate bar from his tac vest, and said, "You've been very helpful introducing us around and helping people take turns with the games. This chocolate probably isn't as healthy as the fruit you gave me, but it's sweet, and I think you might like it."

"Thank you. I liked showing you around and helping," she said, studying the words on the candy wrapper that probably looked like abstract art to her.

"By the way, it looked like you might have an idea to share when I asked about someone learning archery or trying to make a bow or arrows. I'd be very interested in anything you could teach me, even if it doesn't end up relating to my investigation."

Lalowen looked around, but without knowing Ronon's gifts, it would seem like everyone else was out of earshot. "A few days ago, I cut my foot out in the woods. When I looked around, I found a pile of chipped flint next to the big lightening split tree by Fast Creek. Anyone doing that sort of work should have known to bring the sharp pieces to Ezikan. You saw how he was about my bare feet, and everyone he teaches has to learn about safety first. I probably should have told him, but I didn't want another lecture about my feet, so I just added the chips I found to his discard pile. There wasn't anything about the chips that made me think at the time they'd be for something smaller than a knife blade, but they were all very small chips. Are you going to tell on me?"

Spencer smiled. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble unless it was necessary to protect others. I think I can keep your secret. Thanks again for all your help."

With that reassurance, Lalowen ran off with her chocolate bar and Spencer went to join Dostovo and Ronon. Ronon gave a nod that said he'd heard and would check into it. Spencer passed him the tablet to photograph whatever he found.

Dostovo asked about how their lunch and visit at the youth camp had gone. He pointedly didn't ask about Spencer's private discussion with Lalowen. When they were approaching Dostovo's home he asked, "Would you prefer to eat with only Batavo and me tonight, or should we cook over by the community building where others are likely to join us?"

"It might aid our investigation to meet more people if you could advise us on how this works. Should we prepare some food to share?" Spencer asked.

Ronon let out a huff, clearly not thinking much of the power bars and MREs that they'd brought with them.

There was the hint of a smile on Dostovo's face, and Spencer wondered if the other Spirit Leader picked up on emotions more or less than Spencer sometimes did. If the community's eagerness to teach and learn extended to such things, Spencer would appreciate the man's advice on how to improve or control such skills. But he wasn't ready to ask about that yet.

As Dostovo opened a nearby box mounted several feet off the ground and lifted out a basket of pale root vegetables he said, "If you stay long enough, we would be delighted if you share food with us. For now, you are new guests, and any in town will be happy to feed you and teach you. So long as there is mutual respect, this holds true for almost anyone who comes here."

"I hope I won't offend anyone then. Is there something I could help carry?"

Dostovo passed him the basket of vegetables. Then he held out a large pot to Ronon. "Would you mind filling this halfway full at the creek?"

"Sure," Ronon said. His nod toward Spencer suggested that if his path toward the creek tended a little toward a large tree split by lightning, no one would question it.

#

By the time the root vegetables were peeled and ready to cook in the half pot of boiling water, other groups had set up at three fire pits around the community building. Each person who arrived offered greetings to Spencer and Ronon. Soon there were a couple dozen locals wandering between fires, chatting, and cooking. Batavo had arrived with a string of small fish that he gutted and fried. The baker, Pasomok, pulled hot bread that looked like pizza crust from a dome shaped stone oven and layered some form of white cheese on top before serving it around as an appetizer.

Before Spencer tasted his cheese bread he asked Dostovo, "Is she part of the cheesemaker's family since their names both seem to end in the same sound, 'mok'?"

"Yes, you met Tantamok at the youth camp. They have eleven in their family, including five children." Spencer glanced at others eating with Pasomok but was unsure which adults might be lovers and which might be siblings, cousins, or a slightly older generation.

As they ate their bread, Ronon motioned for Spencer to join him on a large log at one edge of the cooking area. Once seated Ronon leaned in close and said, "Not sure this matters if they all hear 'nen' no matter what we say, but I'm hearing Pasomok's pronoun as 'le' in Satedan."

For a moment, Spencer felt his failure like a slap to the face. He didn't know how the local culture would perceive it if Gate translation didn't cover his mistake, but he knew misgendering could be very hurtful within some communities on Earth. Before speaking to Solanen, Spencer would have assumed everyone here spoke the same native language and would only hear 'nen', but that wasn't an excuse. Now that he knew better, Spencer resolved to only use 'nen' when referring to anyone local.

Ronon wrapped an arm around Spencer's shoulders and pulled him closer. It wasn't even half a hug, but after a long day with little physical contact, Spencer felt tension melt from the upper half of his body. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been or how accustomed he'd become to the casual comfort and support of his bond mate.

"Thanks," Spencer said, feeding Ronon his last bite of cheese bread.

The Tracker smiled and mostly finished chewing before he said, "Tell you more later, but for now, you might want this." He passed Spencer his tablet with a sample bag tucked on top. Keeping it tilted so others couldn't see, Spencer glanced at the two flint chips Ronon had found despite Lalowen cleaning up.

Spencer used his sleight of hand skills to shift them to an inner pocket and glanced through the new photos on his tablet. The chips had in fact been found near the lightening split tree. There were also small nicks in the bark of the tree. Even at maximum magnification, Spencer couldn't tell if they might be from someone practicing shooting arrows. But he could pass the photos on to McKay in case there was a way to check them against the arrowheads.

The evidence was inconclusive, but it seemed ever more likely that their unsub came from this area. Spencer reviewed everyone he'd met and wondered if his analyst training would work this far outside his cultural experience. Lalowen was close enough to the right size and possibly strong enough and skilled enough to be the archer, but nothing else about her seemed to fit. She'd pointed them toward the most recent evidence and showed no knowledge or interest in city politics or events near the Gate. Solanen admitted to traveling about and could possibly have a motive. He was too tall to fit the bow, but could have learned from someone smaller, and he hadn't been in town long enough to know where flint chips should be discarded. Nothing about him gave the impression of a criminal or even someone trying to hide their past, but Spencer knew there was a lot he didn't understand about the planet's politics and local customs. By body type, knowledge base, and possible motives, he couldn't rule out Dostovo. Something in Spencer's spirit bond or the emotional impressions he picked up almost at random, wanted to strongly deny that possibility. But he had no idea how such senses might be fooled or biased by another Guide or Spirit Leader.

As if his thoughts had been a summoning, Dostovo walked toward them moving one hand forward in a pinching gesture. Spencer suspected it meant "come join me" or possibly even "come eat."

As the three of them walked back to where everyone was serving themselves from a central table, Ronon suddenly stopped. He had a knife in hand and warning flowing through their bond before Spencer even followed his line of sight.

Approaching fast on six legs was a robot. At least, it had a shiny, flat hexagon on top, about a foot wide on each side. It moved unlike any natural creature Spencer had ever seen. Six legs maneuvered independently, sticking out from beneath each corner of the hexagon in radial symmetry. The legs were wooden and jointed. The overall effect was like a cross between a robot, a marionette, and a crab.

Just as Spencer detected the grinding sound of gears or a motor, Ronon pulled him away. The warrior exchanged the knife for his blaster.

"Please, don't!" Dostovo called out. "It's just a puppet, from the carver, Kapotesh."

The puppet made a bee line for Dostovo as soon as the Spirit Leader started speaking.

Once Ronon lowered his blaster, Spencer moved to get a better view. Sensing the tension still rolling off his bond mate, Spencer didn't try to move closer. From his place next to Ronon, Spencer could feel relief and then a pleased familiarity from Dostovo. The crowd beyond, that had momentarily stilled to watch the drama, began to buzz with conversation and they resumed serving food.

Meanwhile, Dostovo squatted down and lifted the shiny hexagon off of what he had called a puppet. From inside he lifted a carving, less than a foot tall, that showed two furry animals scratching at the front of a DHD.

"Spencer Reid, I believe this is a gift for you," Dostovo said. "Should I bring it over there?"

Spencer tugged at Ronon's sleeve. "Come on." Together they made their way to where Dostovo held the carved gift above the empty puppet that no longer moved.

"One of these creatures looks very much like your ferret," Dostovo said softly to Spencer. "Am I correct in guessing the other is your spirit guide, Ronon Dex?"

Ronon nodded, looking between the motionless puppet and the carving that clearly showed the larger animal similar to a raccoon, known as a navone, that Spencer had only ever seen as Ronon's spirit animal.

When Ronon didn't speak, Spencer asked, "You say this was carved by Kapotesh, the same artist who carved the statue that showed Ronon defending Shan Mal? Does this mean nen is also a Spirit Leader?"

"It would not normally be my place to say," Dostovo spoke quietly so others by the table might not hear, "but I think this is Kapotesh's way of telling you something of the sort. I would also suggest this was not carved in the short time since you arrived. It is a very fine example of the art of wood carving."

"You're sure it's safe?" Spencer asked, mostly to appease Ronon. "The spirit part and the puppet technology?"

Dostovo smiled, as if the question amused him. "Kapotesh assembled and moved into a treehouse on the edge of our community before our Ring of the Ancestors was restored. Nen is a recluse and does not speak but communicates via these puppets, gifts, and occasional sketches to request specific items. The puppets also forage for wood and other supplies sometimes. They all—the puppets and Kapotesh—have done no harm and served our community well in all that time."

"You've never seen Kapotesh?" Ronon asked.

Dostovo glanced toward Batavo, who was no doubt listening in. "We know that Kapotesh comes down from the tree at night sometimes. Our community is based on respect for the needs and preferences of each individual, so we make an effort to respect Kapotesh's desire for privacy and limited interaction. I believe this gift is Kapotesh's way of welcoming you and demonstrating respect."

On Earth, such behavior would be very suspicious. Here it was just another blow to Spencer's confidence in himself and what he was trying to achieve. Somehow, this hermit in a tree had seen the battle at the Gate, including spirit animals that very few would have been able to see. Could nen also have seen the archer who shot the guard? How could Spencer question a possible witness—or even suspect—who might lack either the ability or willingness to speak or write? To complicate matters further, it was clear from what Dostovo said that having Ronon track or spy on Kapotesh would violate local norms for civil interaction and community policing.

"How would someone normally thank Kapotesh for such a gift?" Spencer asked.

Dostovo handed him the statue. "A gift is freely given. The community will send something back in the puppet, food from this meal, because we do not like to return a container empty. If you ever wish to send something to Kapotesh when the puppets are full or not around, there is a box on a pulley beneath nen treehouse. Many patrons of the arts and friends leave extra provisions or gifts there when they have them."

"You said Kapotesh sometimes sends sketches to communicate?"

"To request a candle or water jug, the puppet may bring a sketch to the candlemaker or potter. When a puppet is snagged in a bush, another puppet may bring a map to whoever's closest, to affect a rescue. They are usually scratched into wood, although there was reused paper at least once, from a sketch someone else had sent requesting a special carving."

"So if I sketched someone shooting an arrow at someone guarding the Ring and circled the person holding the bow…"

"Maybe you'd receive a sketch of carving in return. Or you might receive your own sketch back if Kapotesh cannot help."

"But it wouldn't be rude to ask that way?"

Dostovo's hands made small circles where they hung at his side. "Rude depends on the person. Most people here will give you the benefit of the doubt. I have no evidence Kapotesh has taken offence at anyone's actions or requests before, although many commissions are not accepted."

At that point Batavo approached with a bowl of food almost as large as the interior of the puppet. "Send your sketch later." He bent to place the warm food inside.

"Wait," Spencer said. He reached into his vest pocket for his only remaining chocolate bar. He added it carefully to one side, where it wouldn't melt against the warm bowl.

When he stood up, Dostovo was smiling.

Spencer watched how the shiny lid fit back onto the puppet and how its legs moved to carry it back toward the woods, past the herds of furry creatures to where they'd been told Kapotesh lived. Knowing that artists on Earth sometimes refused to have their work photographed, Spencer settled for committing the workings of the puppet to his eidetic memory. Then he stroked and studied the beautiful wooden carving he'd been gifted, before stowing it safely in his messenger bag.

#

By the time everyone was fed and had mostly tidied up, about half of those who'd eaten together remained around a single cooking fire. The light and heat weren't needed, as it was still early on a warm summer night. But Spencer noticed the small flying bugs that seemed most common by the creeks avoided the fragrant smoke that came from the fire.

A farmer named Maltahap (same middle syllable and general body type as Batavo, Spencer noted) finished a story with, "There was no mistaking the privilege of the comforters' guards but the weaver was too bored to stay, and anyway, nen looked terrible dressed in black."

Spencer asked, "How are people chosen to join the guards?"

With a huff not unlike Ronon, Maltahap replied, "How is anyone chosen for positions in that town or that school? They make friends there, show off their skills, try to impress someone on the council or in charge of the guards. Say and wear only what others approve."

"Helps to have family already working there," Nastavet, the miller, said.

Spencer asked, "Any reason someone here might have a grudge against the guards?"

Trying not to assume Earth interpretations, Spencer watched the facial expressions and body language around the fire, even as no one answered. Finally a shepherd, Canmarway, offered, "Maybe if they wouldn't let someone leave the planet?"

"Does that happen?"

"Not that I've heard, but I don't know anyone who's tried," Canmarway said. No one else gave any sign of knowing either.

Spencer thought he should ask Solanen and some of the other young people about that. "Does that mean people here wouldn't want immunizations for things like the second childhood?"

"What you said," the miller asked, "you mean there's a way to prevent things like that? I've only heard stories, but if people start coming and going more, should we worry?"

"The second childhood is caused by a parasite. From what I know, it's spread through contaminated water, and I don't know if it could thrive in this ecosystem. I guess the people near the Ring who wanted immunizations were planning to travel off world, as was one young person here who asked me about it. I could ask our medic to come by and talk with you, if you have any concerns."

"I would be interested, even if I never plan to visit other places," the miller said. "It's always good to learn more, and I'm sure more of today's young people will travel. We'll want to know how to help if they come back sick."

"I'm always interested to speak with other healers," Dostovo added, before the conversation moved on.

#

After they left the group, Spencer made his radio check in. He passed on the locals' invitation and interest in learning from their medic. He barely alluded to what little additional evidence they'd found, other than to say they'd need to stay another day or two.

Sheppard didn't seem to want a long report.

Spencer ended by suggesting, "One of the teens here asked about seeing a spaceship, and it wouldn't hurt if we had something to share at mealtimes."

#

Sleep didn't come easy to Spencer that night, even after he wrote letters to his mother and Penelope about meeting new people, learning about the local cheeses, and camping. The platform tent they'd been given was pleasant enough. Ronon had left slight openings by each fabric wall so he could see out, and the gaps allowed for a pleasant breeze and enough light to suit Spencer. The air smelled like pines and dust. There were small creaky noises from nocturnal animals or buildings settling nearby. Three of the other guest huts were clearly occupied by amorous couples, and Spencer suspected that was their primary use. He tried not to wonder if the lovers were seeking privacy from multigenerational homes, like the butcher's and baker's, or came from the young peoples' camp. It wasn't his business, and his own relationship with Ronon was still so amazing to him that he couldn't begrudge others any version of such a connection.

Tonight though, Ronon seemed withdrawn. Spencer wished his Guide gifts would help him understand his lover better, but so far he couldn't control when he sensed the other's emotions.

Ronon had set out their bedrolls at least a foot apart. There had been plenty of casual touches during the day, the touch of a hand or standing shoulder to shoulder. But they didn't have any rituals like a goodnight kiss. When they slept together in Atlantis they were usually touching, so it hadn't seemed to matter before.

Spencer wasn't sure what was common in America among real (as opposed to book, TV, or movie) couples, let alone on other parts of Earth, let alone in Pegasus or among Ronon's people. Kissing as a social gesture or at certain times of day hadn't appeared in any of the Satedan stories Spencer had read or heard from Ronon. In both stories and their relationship so far, kissing seemed reserved for moments that were already intimate, either physically or emotionally. That could be a good thing, and Spencer didn't want to introduce cultural clichés he wasn't even invested in. But he might need to talk with Ronon about what sort of touch they might share in situations like this, and possibly on missions in general.

It didn't seem right to talk about it in the field. There was barely the illusion of privacy, as Spencer could hear one of the nearby couples getting loud with grunts and squeals. He wondered how much Ronon was hearing with his Tracker gifts, or if his bond mate had dialed his hearing down. Something about Ronon's careful breathing and how still he kept, suggested he was not only awake but using his gifts and experience to scan for any threats.

That realization set Spencer to wondering if the local Sentinel, Batavo, heard everyone in the community having sex and frequently overheard their private conversations. Spencer had been aware of that possibility during his radio check in and when he dropped off his sketch for Kapotesh.

Ronon had insisted on covering Spencer from a distance after the Tracker located the tree with the basket on a pulley. Not sure if Kapotesh was actually in his treehouse, might have impaired hearing, or what social expectation the recluse had, Spencer had fallen back on what seemed to be the community norm. He'd placed his sketch in the hanging basket and said, "Greetings. My name is Spencer Reid. I'm a Consulting Detective trying to understand what happened when a guard at your Ring of the Ancestors was shot by someone using a bow and arrow. If you know anything that might help, I'd appreciate any leads at this point." When nothing happened for over a minute, Spencer walked away.

Now Spencer's mind spun with questions about the reclusive artist. Why had he been able to see both Ronon's and Spencer's spirit animals? How did he create and control the robots the locals called puppets? Did he not socialize or communicate as others did by personal preference or due to physical or mental differences?

Suddenly, Spencer's thoughts twisted sideways, wondering if Kapotesh should be thought of as he or nen. Somehow Gate translation had provided Spencer with gendered pronouns even where the native speaker didn't use them. He wondered how that drew on his own biases or those of the speakers. If no one had ever seen or spoken to Kapotesh, but Spencer had frequently heard male pronouns no matter who spoke of the artist—until he learned 'nen' and started hearing that—had Spencer somehow assumed from the first statue of Ronon that the carver was male? Did his cultural and linguistic biases cause him to assume everyone was male until told otherwise? What would people here or in other parts of Pegasus think of him if they knew how biased Spencer was in his own mind? He'd tasked himself with using 'nen' in conversation here, but could he train himself to think 'nen' until he knew what an individual or group preferred?

Spencer jerked as a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked over to see Ronon's eyes were open and watching him.

"This okay?" Ronon asked.

Spencer nodded and tried to calm himself. He didn't want to keep Ronon awake, but the small amount of touch made him desperate for more. It wasn't a desire for sex, which Spencer thought might have been understandable given the soundtrack, but his preferences ran more to privacy for that. Most of his life he'd shied away from touch, especially when he was high strung or questioning himself. With Ronon, it was just the opposite.

As Spencer started to wonder if he was becoming too dependent or high maintenance, Ronon's hand slid across his shoulder to gently rub at the base of his neck. As those muscles relaxed, Ronon's fingers worked upward into Spencer's hair. The genius stopped caring if he should want it or not. Sensations cascaded from his scalp through his spine and out to all his extremities. Spencer let himself bask in the pleasure of being loved and wanted. Their bond hummed with his appreciation. His brain gave up on analyzing why, because there were no conditions under which Spencer would deny himself or his bond mate this.

At some point, he drifted into a deep and easy sleep.

#

_Spencer's eyes snapped open to a cacophony of squawking and a cold blue light. He was perched on the edge of a roughly woven mat. No, it was a huge nest made of sticks and fibers._

_The creatures he'd thought of as pterosaurs, when he first saw one rushing the gate on Shan Mal, were circling overhead. They were the source of the squawking noise. But there was another noise: sobbing and a rough worn voice saying, "I can't lose nen. Everyone's dying." A crouched shadow seemed to appear at the center of the nest only as Spencer heard a second voice._

_"I'm still male, and I'm not going to die." This voice sounded rough in a different way, almost asthmatic, but not as if he was weeping. His shadowy form took shape lying on the tangled sticks in front of the kneeling figure. The volume of squawking from above cut to almost nothing, as if the flying creatures were listening. "Please stop crying. I came here to comfort you. We all want to comfort you."_

_As his panicked mind came up to speed, Spencer realized that if the first pterosaur he'd seen had been a spirit animal, the ones flying and listening in might be as well. Given the nest as large as an American living room and the strange blue light, this was either the spirit plane Spencer had heard about or one of Spencer's more disturbing dreams. Looking down at himself, Spencer saw he was only a shadow as well, a thin ragged black shape perched on a bundle of sticks. At least he felt solid enough not to slip between them. But he wasn't sure how he could help the shadow that was trying to choke back sobs to speak._

_"Pornal was killed for coming to help my parent. Now they're both dead and you're hurt."_

_"It doesn't matter here. I have you and our cluster. And I'm glad to be rid of my last parent."_

_"I can't fix any of it." Nen started to cry again._

_The figure that claimed to be male groaned and struggled to sit up. "I don't need to be fixed. What I lost didn't matter as much as getting to you."_

_As the two wrapped increasingly defined arms around each other, the circling pterosaurs swooped down all at once. The wind from their wings blew Spencer backward off the nest. He flailed out his arms and felt them become trapped in a tangle._

#

"Wake up, Spencer. Let me help you."

"Help them," Spencer whined, before placing the other voice as Ronon.

"Who?" Ronon asked.

"I don't know," Spencer whispered, opening his eyes and freeing his trapped arms from the bedroll. "The crying one used the pronoun 'nen' and was 'nen' in my thoughts. The hurt one insisted he was male and didn't need to be fixed. He claimed to be happy to be rid of his last parent, but nen was crying about possibly losing nen and someone who had come to help. Pornal. That's not a Shan Mal name, but the crying one used 'nen,' which I've only heard from people here."

"What about when I say 'le'?"

"I hear 'le.'"

"Can I touch you now?" At his nod, Ronon pulled Spencer, bedroll and all, onto Ronon's lap.

Spencer nestled into Ronon's shoulder and wrapped his arms around. Here he could speak even more quietly, relying on the Tracker's superior hearing. "You were testing to see if I'd hear 'nen' now when you said 'le,' helping to test if the person was really from Shan Mal. You deal with me and my nightmares and still come up with the right thing to say, even if it's about linguistics in the middle of the night."

"Closer to dawn." Ronon stroked a warm hand up and down Spencer's neck, reminding him of how he'd fallen asleep.

"What do you hear when I say 'pterosaur'?" Spencer asked.

"The hum of failed translation."

"Did you see any large flying animals today? They might have been birds, but their wings looked more angular and less feathery. At the end of my dream, a crowd of them came down to the giant nest I was in."

"I haven't seen them here, but Sateda had flying animals called lotuks, with large toothed beaks and clawed hands at the bend in their wings. Do you want to hear a story about them?"

"I should let you sleep," Spencer whispered around a yawn.

"Not going to. You try. I'll keep you safe."

Normally, Spencer couldn't sleep after nightmares. But he was so tired and felt so warm and safe. His bond mate surrounded him with comfort, and Spencer let himself sink into that as he listened.

"Sometimes creatures like Mama Lotuk court and carry on much the way people do. But when the populations runs low, a female lotuk can lay a clutch of eggs all the same. Some may pass this preference down to their chicks. It's said one long line of mothers stretches all the way back to Mama Lotuk, keeping true to their origins.

"One of these Mama Lotuks, maybe the first, maybe many generations removed but still the same, laid a perfect clutch of eight identical eggs. Lotuks tend to lay eight eggs at a time."

Spencer remembered the creatures circling in his dream and was almost certain there had been eight of them. He focused enough of his mind on the story to make sure he wouldn't forget, even as his body tucked in against Ronon's warmth. The hand stroking Spencer's neck and back loosened muscles and his tenuous hold on wakefulness.

"This time, when those eight eggs hatched, they all broke through within moments of each other. They all took their first breath and opened their eyes in the same moment. They stood and crashed into each other as they all took their first steps at once.

"Mama Lotuk paid attention and fed each one the same amount every time she brought food back to the nest. So she noticed right away when there were only seven mouths to feed. She poked around and looked over the side of the nest. Sure enough, one little chick had managed to climb over and fall to the ground. Mama Lotuk wondered why one behaved so differently when they all started out the same, body and mind. She swooped to the ground, hoping to feed her eighth daughter and bring her back to the nest, but the chick was already dead.

"Mama Lotuk flew back up and lectured the other seven on how they must all stay together and not leave the nest until she said they were ready. But one of the youngsters couldn't listen, she was crying in little tiny screeches. Two of her nestmates went to comfort her, pressing the warmth of their bodies close on either side. The remaining four moved away from the noise—two looking toward their mother and two looking away. That was the day Mama Lotuk knew that no matter how identical two younglings might seem at the start, there would come a time when they'd choose different paths."

#


	3. 3

If there was more to the story, Spencer didn't hear or remember it in the morning. He woke with his head on Ronon's shoulder and Ronon's fingers combing through his hair.

"I love you," Spencer whispered and felt the arm beneath his head shift to pull him closer.

"I love you, too," Ronon said. "If you want to know, half the locals are already awake and making breakfast or tending to chores. Three from the baker's family have been up long enough to have rolls coming out of the oven already."

"Are you saying I'm lazy?"

Ronon gave him a squeeze that their bond echoed as well. "No. Are you hungry?"

"I'm guessing you are. Did you get any more sleep since dawn?" Spencer moved across the tent cabin to pull out clean clothes and enough tea and power bars to share.

"Don't need sleep. Just food." Ronon pulled on a new shirt, the vest he'd worn the day before, and his boots. He'd slept in his pants.

They found most of the same people from the night before in the communal cooking area, as well as a smarm of very young children who seemed to have already eaten, given the fresh food on many of their faces. "Who wants to play with the <buzz>?" Mynapa, the weaver, called out. The youngsters gathered around nen as if this was at least a semi-regular morning activity. Mynapa washed several faces and hands with a wet cloth. A couple of teens and adults helped and then tagged along for the children's visit to the herd of fuzzy, furry animals.

It was easy to see the children as neither male nor female, since they were too young to have different body types and almost all had long hair. Their clothing varied from cloth wraps to tunics to something like overalls. None of it signified gender to Spencer's eyes, and given the local language, he guessed it wasn't meant to. With a deep breath and a smile, Spencer decided to focus on the local perspective for now, and see where that took his investigation.

One of Kapotesh's puppets was making its way to a far table with something long tied on top of its shiny upper panel. It stopped in front of an elderly person whose hands fluttered excitedly at nen sides. The young person sitting nearest hopped up from the table and hurried to untie what turned out to be a walking stick with an extendable clasping device. The elder practiced wrapping fingers beneath the top grip to activate the device that folded out to pick up a leaf from the ground. After a couple more trials, the happy recipient carefully angled the clasping device to remove the panel from the puppet's back. A brief discussion followed that Spencer couldn't hear. Then the young person went to gather two rolls and two of the plum-like fruits Spencer had encountered the day before. Tantamok rushed over with a slab of cheese, and then carefully replaced the top of the puppet. Many eyes watched fondly at the puppet scampered away in the direction of Kapotesh's treehouse.

Spencer set the power bars he was carrying on the table for shared food and carried the tea with him to greet Dostovo and Batavo. "Good morning. I wanted to offer you and others some Athosian tea, but I don't have a large container for heating water."

"I hope you slept well," Dostovo replied. "There is hot water at the first fire for making hot beverage. I would be pleased to try Athosian tea. And you should try Pasomok's <buzz> buns. They're still warm."

"Can you say that again?" Spencer asked.

"Condit buns." Dostovo led him to a fire with pots of boiling water and jars of powder and leaves set to one side.

"And the animals the children went to see?"

"Passels." Dostovo produced nen own cup, and Ronon set out his and Spencer's.

As Ronon measured out the Athosian tea, Spencer asked, "Also, do you have flying creatures called lotuks here?"

"No, but I know them from the spirit plane. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I saw some yesterday. I'd also seen one when spirit animals came to defend the Ring here. Could you tell me if someone in this town has a lotuk as a spirit guide?"

There was silence all around them, and Spencer realized that others must have been listening. He felt his face heat as he realized how thoughtless and unprofessional he'd been. "I'm sorry. Is it offensive to ask about that?"

Taking a deep breath, Dostovo waved a hand side to side in a motion visible to all around. "I accept you meant only to learn. We will talk further later. For now, why don't you show others how to make this fine tea you brought."

#

After half the town had passed through for food or social reasons, Spencer and Ronon helped clean up the area around the community building. When the last crumbs were wiped away, Dostovo moved to stand directly in front of Spencer. "If you wish to learn as a Spirit Leader, I would take you to the spirit plane for that conversation. Do you truly wish to learn, even if it does not help your investigation?"

"Yes," Spencer said without hesitation, "and I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn earlier."

Dostovo blinked, perhaps thrown by the colloquialism "out of turn" but then said, "Would you be more comfortable in your tent, our home, or the community building?"

"I'm fine wherever." Spencer caught Ronon raising an eyebrow at him, "Ronon?"

Ronon nodded toward the tent platform where they'd slept the night before.

"That would be fine with us," Dostovo turned nen hand sideways and back, motioning toward Batavo. "It is best if we are all comfortable with our physical location."

"Are there risks?" Ronon asked.

"Seeking knowledge always involves risk," Dostovo said seriously, much more seriously than in any of their interactions the day before. "But in the sense you mean, the only risk is that we will be unaware of our physical surroundings. I suspect you, like Batavo, will want to keep watch."

Ronon huffed and followed them, as did Batavo. The Sentinel and the Tracker positioned themselves outside while Spencer followed Dostovo in.

"This will be easiest lying down for now," Dostovo said.

Spencer laid out their bedrolls from the night before. "Is this okay? Is there anything else I should prepare?"

"For now, I'm going to pull you through with me. So long as you are willing, it should come naturally with your gifts. Later, you will be able to bring yourself or others."

They lay down side by side. Dostovo placed nen hand on Spencer's wrist, eliciting a startle response that Spencer quickly suppressed. "Relax. Close your eyes. If you can easily meditate or calm your mind, try that."

It seemed like only moments later when Dostovo said, "Open your eyes."

The blue tinge to the trees and grasses surrounding them did not surprise Spencer. "I may have seen the spirit plane in a dream last night."

"Is that where you saw the lotuks?"

"Yes, circling a giant nest. But I also saw some yesterday, as we were leaving Ezikan's place."

Dostovo sighed and the deer creature Spencer had seen when they first met approached from the shadow of a large coniferous tree. Dostovo gave it a pat from where nen sat on a bed of leaves and other plant parts, and the deer settled down beside nen. "Yes. I wondered. To my way of thinking, the gifts of a Spirit Leader are a grave responsibility. There were times in the past when those of us who saw such things were called upon to tell all we knew to those in power. To refuse could mean our deaths. To tell could mean death or worse for others. I cannot ask you to respect a history you do not share, but in this place, I will tell you what I can to help you understand. Do the guards and council know the extent of your gifts?"

"I don't think so, but at least one professor at the school has known since the battle by the Ring. He spoke to me privately about bond mates and old stories that were out of favor with certain factions."

"It was brave of nen to approach you. You do not think nen was a spy for the council?"

"That's not something that would have occurred to me."

"Did you sense any ulterior motives of manipulations from nen?"

"No, but I don't know how to control that yet."

"You have a good memory, yes?"

"I have what my people call an eidetic memory."

"Yes, that is common with Spirit Leaders. Focus on the memory while you're here on the spirit plane and tell me how you feel about this professor."

Spencer closed his eyes, pictured himself, Ronon, and Bantulan sitting high on a hill with a view of the Gate before the battle started.

#

_Bantulan had been teasing Spencer about an embarrassing moment the day before. Then he'd visibly calmed himself and said, "The current council draws from a very modernist faction and prefers that we downplay some of the old stories and teach only about better tested and more quantifiable practices."_

_"But you're not of this faction?" Spencer asked._

_Bantulan half closed his eyes in an expression very similar to one Alohabar had used when dissembling. "I am not of one faction or another. I have taught under three vastly different councils and maintain ties with colleagues of all persuasions. I see myself as a teacher and philosopher who values communication and a free discussion of ideas. What I want to tell you may not be truth, but it carries enough meaning that people repeat it and remember it over many generations."_

_He'd proceeded to share some "legends" about bond mates, and how some might see Spencer and Ronon as such._

#

The memory brought only concern for Bantulan. The scholar had known the risks he took in seeking them out and sharing information but if anything, he meant to help and protect Spencer and Ronon. In the chaos that followed, Spencer had never even thanked him.

"I sensed only good intentions." Spencer looked up to the too blue sky and wondered how much he could trust Dostovo. "May I ask you about naming conventions? Would it be bad if you guessed the names of some involved?"

"I would not betray any confidence passed between us as Spirit Leaders, especially in this plane." With those words, Spencer felt the honesty behind Dostovo's words. "You should be able to sense my sincerity, but of course anyone can break under torture or strong enough coercion."

Instinctively, Spencer wanted to trust Dostovo, but he was well aware the other Spirit Leader had chosen to open up or let more come through somehow. "I'm getting the impression politics on this planet have not been peaceful in the past."

Dostovo's hands formed a circle, and Spencer didn't have to ask to know it meant agreement, perhaps in the way an English speaker would say "of course."

"So the young people here have a family name of 'en' but is 'an' by itself an ending or is there always a sound before it as in 'kan' or 'wan'?"

As Dotovo stretched nen neck straighter, the deer beside nen did as well, causing Spencer to wonder about shared mannerism or other aspects of spirit animals.

"I'd never thought about it," Dostovo said, "but when you say it like that I can see it's not obvious from another perspective. Yes, 'en' is a unit of meaning for us but 'an' is not. Does that help?"

"Yes, and just to confirm, that means those whose names end in 'fan' are currently part of the same family?"

"Yes, although I know no one with that family name."

"It may not even be relevant, or others on my team may well have realized it already. Please, tell me whatever you will about learning from the spirit animals I see and how to handle the information responsibly."

Dostovo leaned back, as if settling in for a long discussion. "To begin with, you should be able to tell whether any animals you see are physically present or spirit guides. Now that you've visited the spirit plane, and know it is not a dream, the differences may be more obvious."

Spencer looked around and tried to open all his senses, limited though they were, to capture the spirit plane fully with his eidetic memory.

"With practice, you should be able to feel your connection to the spirit plane, much as you feel your connection to your bond mate. Your connection to the spirit plane will let you control your gifts, like sensing projected emotions or dishonesty, and may allow limited communication with spirit guides other than your own. Mostly, it allows both you and the spirit guide to assess each other's intentions. Try focusing on my spirit guide."

Spencer looked at the deer and sensed calm and contentment.

"Nen likes you," Dostovo said, stroking the deer's neck. "Do you know how to call your spirit guide using your bond? They're almost always eager to join us when we're on the spirit plane."

The moment Spencer thought about touching his bond to call his ferret, the creature appeared and wound around him like an excited, furry whirlwind. When the ferret stopped moving long enough to meet Dostovo's eyes, Spencer felt a burst of approval and delight. Then the ferret was swarming across Dostovo to loop around the deer's neck.

"I felt his—nen—approval of you. Is there a way I can communicate with my spirit guide better? Is there a way to ask what pronoun I should use?" The ferret rushed back to Spencer, perching on his knee to nod vigorously at Spencer's face. "Do you want me to use nen?"

There were more vigorous, very unnatural looking head bobs.

"Just so I can be sure you mean that as agreement, would you be just as happy with the pronouns he and him?"

The ferret shook nen head side to side, still very fast.

"Okay, and do you have a name?"

Spencer felt a ringing in his head, far too reminiscent of his migraine hallucinations. The ferret climbed to wrap around his neck as Spencer rubbed at his temples.

"You might want to stick to yes and no questions for a while," Dostovo spoke softly. "Sharing thoughts with your own spirit guide grows easier the more you come to know and appreciate yourself. But if they speak a language, such that one could communicate a name we could speak, I've never heard of anyone learning it. You might want try out a name you like the way you tried out pronouns."

"Would you like to be called Rikki-Tikki-Tavi? It was the name of a mongoose that protected a boy and his family in a story by Rudyard Kipling. I think that was the closest thing I knew to a spirit guide when I was a child."

The ferret nodded eagerly against Spencer's neck, which kind of tickled. Spencer also felt a burst of approval through their bond and felt an echo as if Ronon heard it, too.

"You have a very enthusiastic spirit guide. How recently did you come into your gifts?"

"A couple months ago?" Spencer said, reaching up to pet Rikki-Tikki-Tavi's lush fur. "Shortly before the battle at your Ring."

"That explains a few things. Your bond is so settled, I assumed you'd been aware for much longer."

"My bond seems settled? I don't know what that means."

"Were you called through the Ring to your bond mate?"

"No." A burst of disbelief from Rikki made Spencer reconsider his willingness to leave Earth and move to Atlantis. "Well, I thought it was coincidence at the time."

"That touches on what I need you to understand." Dostovo leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Many on this planet have denied the truths of the spirit plane and our spirit guides in various ways at various times. If you report back to the council that Batavo and I are bond mates, Guardian and Spirit Leader for this community, at best they will think you subscribe to an unfashionable religion. At worst, sometime in the future we could be murdered for deviant beliefs or treated as slaves for others to control and take advantage of our gifts. Our current council would like to deny such things have ever happened. People there either choose to believe them or keep quiet. But the professor you mentioned told you some of this, at least that bond mates are currently considered to be myths or wishful thinking at best?"

"But why?" Spencer asked, the curious and honest part of himself overwhelming his training as an investigator even as his mind flooded with parallels from Earth. The Catholic Church had denied heliocentrism and silenced Galileo Galilei despite previously producing Georges Lemaitre who proposed the Big Bang Theory.

"Some of our history is not mine to tell and truly not yours to know. But I will tell you one story as evidence, and you and your spirit guide may know I speak truly. This happened in my lifetime and I saw parts of it, although others will tell you it couldn't have happened here, at least not in more than ten generations since we cut ourselves off from Ring travel."

Spencer could feel only truth behind Dostovo's words, no matter how much he wanted to remain skeptical.

"There was a different council in power at the time, and one of the councilors was Renarfo who had a grandchild Pasarten. Pasarten was a Spirit Leader in a time when few would admit to such gifts. But Pasarten not only spoke of what nen knew to be true, including the poor intentions of some people in positions of power, but Pasarten insisted nen had a bond mate who needed them to unbury the Ring. The Ring had been buried for some amount of time, even people then couldn't agree how long, and recently the estimates have become even more exaggerated. Supposedly, it was buried to protect Shan Mal from the Wraith.

"Pasarten argued that restoring the Ring for a short time would let other, less aware bond mates through and allow for much needed trade, even if the Ring was then buried again for safety's sake. But Councilor Renarfo wanted Pasarten to serve as Guide to a wealthy Guardian, Leswiway, who was also on the council. Renarfo and Leswiway convinced the council to rule that bond mates were legends and such partnerships were merely choices of convenience. They refused to uncover the Ring and tried various means to convince or coerce Pasarten into serving Leswiway.

"I will not tell you what I know of the atrocities that council and others committed during that time in order to have their own way and silence all opposition. Some of it would be only hearsay from me and some of it is private to others still living. What I can tell you is that Renarfo tried to drown nen own grandchild, Pasarten, as the Guardian Leswiway stood by and watched. Perhaps the plan was to have Leswiway 'rescue' Pasarten at the last moment to make nen feel indebted.

"Instead, the ground began to shake. The meadow around the Ring was torn apart as the Ring rose up. Few recognized the sound of the Ring about to open, but many fled or hid from the unknown. As soon as the blue light flooded out and then stabilized, a wiry adolescent came sprinting through, accompanied by a <buzz> and a bird that few could see. The bird led nen to the lake where Pasarten was all but drowned. The newcomer did not hesitate to throw knives at both Leswiway and Renarfo, perceiving them at once as threats to nen bond mate. Instead, the enraged Guardian ran into the hills with Pasarten, never to be seen again."

"Did Renarfo and Leswiway die?" Spencer asked. "Did Pasarten and the newcomer survive?"

"The latter, is not my story to tell. But it is recorded fact that Leswiway died of knife wounds. Renarfo survived and actually argued to keep the Ring open given the damage that was already done. Renarfo, the council, and others, engaged in trade to make their lives more comfortable. They may have also sent trade missions to acquire items everyone on Shan Mal needed and couldn't produce here, but they made sure they benefited more than most. When others argued it might be safer to bury the Ring after most stocks were replenished, Renarfo led the faction demanding more time for trade, especially in the personal services of the gifted, for which Shan Mal has long been known.

"Then without warning one night, a scouting party of Wraith came through the Ring. Many people died, but by morning, the Ring was buried again. A few traders and those who came seeking pleasure or as students were stranded on Shan Mal. If some of those stranded believed they were also called to their bond mates, that wasn't something people spoke about openly, at least not in the city by the Ring."

"But how did they raise and lower the Ring so fast?" Spencer asked.

"I probably wouldn't tell you if I could, but that's a good question. Do you not believe me?"

"Everything I know from my gifts and my spirit guide tell your story was honest. But would you tell me if you had way to deceive other Spirit Leaders of spirit guides?"

Dostovo moved a hand side to side, with a forgiving frown. "I would, because I feel a responsibility to teach you, but I can accept that your history informs your concerns just as my own history informs mine. Shall we return to the physical plane now? I sense from my bond mate that yours is growing concerned."

Paying attention to something other than the story and all he wanted to learn, Spencer could also feel Ronon's concern. He tried to send a reassuring feeling back while asking Dostovo, "May I ask you just a few more questions?"

"Better here than elsewhere. Ask."

"Do you know about someone named Pornal? From my dream last night, which I guess was really the spirit plane, I think nen may have died."

"I know no one with that name."

For the first time, Spencer detected not a lie, but not the complete truth from Dostovo. He suspected the Spirit Leader knew that would come across and possibly even allowed Spencer that awareness. "I realize there may be secrets you feel responsible to keep, but someone in my dream was weeping about losing both Pornal and a parent. Another person, who specifically identified as male, had also lost a parent and been hurt, but seemed to think it was worth it. And he mentioned a cluster. Is there something I should have done based on seeing this on the spirit plane? Can you help me understand any of it or tell me if there's any way to help them?"

Dostovo studied him, and Spencer guessed he was an open book but couldn't care in this instance. He sat still and waited for an answer.

Finally Dostovo said, "There must be some reason you saw that. Someone must believe you can help. Perhaps that's even what brought you here in the first place. Give me a few hours, and we can come back to the spirit plane. If those others want to meet with us, or with you, we can invite them. You know, this isn't what I expected you to ask about."

For a moment, Spencer was confused, since Dostovo invited him to the spirit plane to keep him from asking in public who might have a lotuk as a spirit animal. "Oh, you expected me to ask who killed the guard. But if you knew, you wouldn't tell me."

"If I knew someone had killed without reason or was dangerous if left free, I would do what was needed to take care of the problem." Dostovo's hands once again formed a circle, as if to say, "of course."

Again, there was a sense of honesty but not complete honesty. "That's about what I expected," Spencer said. "Thank you for your help and all for you've told me. Let me know when it's a good time to come back here and see about working with others."

#

Spencer had barely emerged from the tent before the radio by his ear carried Sheppard's voice, "Ronon, Reid, you should be able to hear me now. The Jumper sensors show you near the edge of the settlement, close to a herd of animals and a lot of people. I'm thinking I'll leave the Jumper cloaked in the nearest empty field past those animals and walk into town with Juarez, unless you tell me otherwise. Or tap the radio if you want me to wait and can't talk now."

Spencer tapped his radio once and noticed Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was still wrapped around his neck. He looked to Ronon who shrugged. They walked to where Batavo and Dostovo were talking and gesturing nearby. Both paused in their discussion and turned to face their guests.

"Our medic and pilot are close," Spencer said. "I thought I should check with you before they parked a spaceship nearby and came into town."

From the look on Batavo's face, it seemed likely nen had heard the radio communication. The Sentinel raised an arm in the direction of the herd of passels where many children were either brushing fur or holding out food. "If they land in the next field over, I will be there to meet them." With that nen was off at a fast clip.

"Maybe we should all go," Dostovo said, and Spencer was reminded of his own semi-capture and interrogation upon arrival.

Spencer didn't bother hiding the motion as he tapped at his ear and said, "We'll meet you there."

Then he and Ronon hurried to follow Dostovo who was walking fast but still waving reassuringly to others as he passed.

#

When they came out of the trees into an already harvested field, Spencer was surprised to see Juarez looking terrified while Sheppard stood calmly nearby with a pistol in hand.

The Jumper was cloaked, but Juarez stood awkwardly with his medical backpack obviously pressed up against an invisible wall. The medic had his arms up, nowhere near his weapon. Batavo's spirit animal, an intimating local boar, was growling at Juarez from a few feet away. But Juarez was practically hyperventilating, eyes wider than Spencer would have ever expected of the usually unflappable military medic. He also seemed to have a large rabbit trying to curl up very small beside his feet.

A few yards to the side of that tableau, Batavo was growling at Sheppard who slouched like a TV gunfighter, pistol in hand. "Look, I'm not sure what your problem is, but we were invited. We came to share medical aid, and meet up with our friends, Spencer Reid and Ronon Dex. You know them?"

Dostovo shouted, "Calm down, Batavo. You're scaring the Guides."

"Stay back," Sheppard shouted, with only a glance toward Dostovo, Spencer, and Ronon.

As they stopped, Dostovo said quietly, "It might help if your friend put away his gun."

"Sheppard," Ronon shouted, "put away the gun. It's one of those things you don't like to talk about."

"There are a lot of things I don't like to talk about. Who is this guy?" Sheppard called back.

"I am Batavo, protector of this settlement."

"Great. Glad to see you're calming down," Sheppard said. "I'm John Sheppard. We come in peace. That's Tito Juarez. He's a medic, a healer. I'm not exactly sure why he's so freaked out, but I'm sure he'll calm down if you will."

"Move away from the wrongness. I have no wish to hurt either of you," Batavo proclaimed loud and clear.

Sheppard mouthed, "Wrongness?" But if there was any sound to it, Spencer couldn't hear it. In a more normal voice, Sheppard said. "How about if we join our friends?"

"Go." Batavo was still looking violently ahead.

Spencer realized the Sentinel wasn't quite looking at Sheppard. He was focused on the invisible Jumper. He called out as calmly as he could, "I think the wrongness might be the cloaking feature, but coming over here seems like a good first step."

"Juarez, I need you to join Spencer and Ronon now." When the terrified medic didn't respond in any way, Sheppard's voice and even the way he held his neck and shoulders changed. He gave the next order as the military commander. "Lieutenant Juarez, join our teammates, now!"

Juarez blinked his eyes, looked away from the growling boar, looked for only a moment at the no longer growling Sentinel, and practically marched across the field to stand beside Spencer. The huddled rabbit vanished, but the boar kept growling.

"Go," Batavo said again to Sheppard.

"Sure thing." Sheppard reverted to his slouchy but still military persona and backed toward his teammates with his pistol still ready in his hand.

Before Sheppard quite reached them, Batavo and nen boar charged forward and attacked the cloaked Jumper.

"Maybe you should try uncloaking it," Spencer said.

Dostovo was already rushing toward nen bond mate. "Calm down. It's not that bad."

When the Jumper became visible, Batavo paused for a moment, although nen boar didn't show any sign of noticing the difference.

Spencer noted for future thought that spirit animals might be able to see through cloaking technology and Sentinels might at least sense it as wrong. He had no idea what Dostovo had or hadn't perceived.

Batavo was now pounding at the Jumper with both fist, no longer enraged, but as if nen wanted to push it away. Dostovo was speaking calmly and moving a hand side to side in front of nen.

"What was that all about?" Sheppard demanded as he stopped to stand beside their team.

"First, be aware that he can probably still hear you. Second, could you see any animals in that confrontation?" Spencer asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answers.

"What? No," Sheppard said.

Juarez looked at Spencer with hope and the first signs of his usual calm.

"Yeah, I thought I was crazy at first, too." Spencer turned so he could fully meet Juarez's eyes. "Tell me which animals you saw."

"A jack rabbit and something like a boar, except maybe alien?" Juarez paused as his eyes dipped down for a moment. "And either your fashion sense has changed or there's something furry wrapped around your neck."

"Very good. Right. They're spirit animals. People here call them spirit guides." Spencer smiled and tried to sound reassuring. "This is probably not the best time and place to discuss them, but it has something to do with those gifts you've been studying. Does that help?"

Juarez nodded, posture relaxing a bit.

Spencer decided to ask what he needed to know. "As a medic, if you were me trying to help you, should I be telling you to sit down or maybe eat something after a shock like that?"

Juarez began to laugh.

"I don't want to know," Sheppard said. He motioned toward Batavo and Dostovo who had left the Jumper and were walking toward them, although Batavo kept glancing back. "Care to help us fix things with the locals?"

#

By the time they returned to the community building with Sheppard and Juarez, escorted by Batavo and Dostovo, half the community seemed to be inside or milling around nearby, including more than half the population from the young people's camp. On their way out, Dostovo must have somehow signaled to those tending the passels that they'd be bringing new guests. Everyone seemed to expect the medic mentioned the night before to share learning, although no specific time or place had been mentioned. Perhaps it was assumed. The kids or others must have run all over town spreading the word, because barely twenty minutes had passed, and they'd returned to a crowd.

The swirl of excitement and curiosity caught Spencer off guard, causing him to stumble. Ronon caught his upper arm and didn't let go after steadying him. "You okay?"

Blinking his eyes and looking around, Spencer realized he could pinpoint individuals with especially loud emotions. Dugonen, the teenaged body artist leaned out from the wraparound porch of the community center, nen body communicating the same eagerness as nen mind. The baker's elderly parent, who leaned on two canes beneath a door lintel carved to show local hills, exuded a mix of pain, skepticism, and hope.

Realizing that his visit to the spirit plane had amplified his emotional awareness helped Spencer to tune it down. As he did so, he noticed his spirit guide had gone, which was probably for the best if Spencer wanted to concentrate on work. Imagining two radio dials, one for volume and one for channel, he focused on those nearby who were stepping forward to greet the new visitors. He relaxed slightly into Ronon's hold and said, "Fine now, thanks."

Sheppard demonstrated his quirky charm as he exchanged greeting after greeting. Juarez followed in his wake, quieter, but back to his usual reassuring presence.

Before following them inside, Spencer once again focused on his link to the spirit plane, he wished for his ferret back and felt nen perch on his shoulder almost immediately. At a surprised glance from Ronon, Spencer said, "I seem to have learned a few things from Dostovo this morning."

He also spotted the fluffy owl from the day they arrived, perched at the edge of the woods. There was a blue shadow surrounding nen that Spencer didn't know how he'd failed to see before.

Giving Rikki a subtle pat, he let nen know that was all he needed for now. He tried to think his thanks and hoped the ferret understood.

Inside the community building, there were more introductions, with some present who hadn't yet met Ronon and Spencer. Those included older people, many with last syllables to their names that Spencer had already encountered. Up near the front there was a butcher and healer introduced as Wasomiat who was holding hands with a young herbalist, Seranvet, who was related to the miller somehow. Those two waved the newcomers to a raised platform spread with firs. Similar platforms wrapped around the room, and firs had also been spread to provide more comfortable floor seating. Spencer wondered how close to the full population of the settlement was present. Large windows were uncovered on each side of the room allowing those standing outside on the wraparound porch to see in and listen.

Once they were seated, Batavo retreated outside as Dostovo moved nen hands in a wavy motion that others around the room copied. In a moment, the crowd was almost silent. "Greetings all around for those who have not yet met our guests. This will be a fine day to share learning. Let us begin with Tito Juarez, a healer or medic, who was invited to tell of immunizations against the second childhood and other concerns we might encounter with renewed travel through the Ring of the Ancestors."

"Um, I'm not much of a public speaker," Juarez said. "Perhaps I could show you the items I brought, and then we could share ideas back and forth?"

Spencer could both see and feel how most in the eager audience immediately liked the modest young man. Sitting back on the soft furs provided, Spencer engaged his eidetic memory to map local body language and gestures to the emotions he could now sense so readily.

Juarez began by explaining about the second childhood immunization and how he would also take a blood sample from anyone willing that he could test for signs of infection or nutritional deficits. He did not explain that the immunization was combined with protection against the virus carried by the army that had battled at their Ring of the Ancestors a few weeks before, since even those who knew about the battle probably didn't know a virus had been involved.

The medic showed them his tablet and how he could record their fingerprints and names in order to bring them medical results later, with a brief allusion to how it might help his medical and other research. A few young people in the audience whispered about games, and Juarez announced that those would be available from his tablet or perhaps his friends', if time permitted. He then pulled out a sealed box with what looked like gummy candies. "These are a sweet form of medicine that I would like to offer you all. They can protect you from a few colds and sinus ailments that we've detected at marketplaces and gatherings lately. I can't promise they'll help you, but they are safe and most people like the taste. Please only take one each, as taking more won't make you any healthier, and I'd like to have enough to share with others." As he passed the box around, he asked, "Any questions?"

Spencer's mind filled with stories about medicines delivered in foods, especially the way live polio vaccine had been distributed as candies in the former USSR as early at 1959. The vaccine was later given as sugar cubes in the USA, but the candies never made it across the Pacific. With long practice, Spencer cut off the ramble in his mind. But Ronon must have sensed something, as he gave Spencer's arm an affectionate pat.

Around them fingers began to wave, at varying heights and speeds. When Juarez's eyes went wide, Dostovo stepped in again to call on people in turn. Nen seemed to start with those whose fingers moved fastest. It didn't seem that the height at which they held their hands mattered, but Spencer watched closely and also noted how each person's speech, facial expressions, and posture seemed to mesh with the emotions he picked up from them. There were only a few questioners with negative emotions, fear or despair, for Spencer to observe. But he noticed right away when an elder with a long face and loose clothing seemed less than honest. "I heard the shots you gave for second childhood made some people sick in the city."

Juarez looked alarmed. "Can you tell me who? I was just there, and no one told me any such thing."

"If they didn't tell you, it means they don't trust you."

The elder was radiating anger, along with something like despair. Sheppard must have seen or felt something similar, because he shifted forward, to where he could easily stand and defend Juarez if needed.

Dostovo intervened and said, "Mantoleve, if you truly have something to tell, step outside with me, and I will listen."

"You can't trust outsiders. Their cures are all lies." The elder was spitting in anger now, but others in the room seemed calm and resigned to the display. The people on either side rested hands on nen knees. Whether their intent was to calm or restrain, Spencer wasn't certain. But he sensed an older loss and deeper mental problems behind the elder's worries.

"Mantoleve, please come with me." Dostovo moved closer even as anger and deceit radiated more strongly. Something about the emotions hurt Spencer's head, and he wondered if that was a hint of mental illness. He worried what he might sense when he next saw his mother in person. "I can help with your grief. You may be confused in the direction of your anger."

At that point Batavo stepped in the main door. "It is time to prepare lunch. Who would like to help?"

The noise level rose immediately as people discussed what to make or bring and many moved outside. Batavo made his way easily to Mantoleve's side, where nen joined others who must have helped in some way, as the paranoid anger soon abated to sadness and regret.

Meanwhile, a ring of people had formed around Sheppard and Juarez. The medic prepared and explained his inoculation equipment and procedures to the herbalist and healer as Lalowen reclaimed nen role explaining how to use the tablet to eager volunteers.

Sheppard handed a duffel he'd been carrying to Ronon. "You want to share food on our behalf while I keep an eye on this?"

Ronon seemed happy for an excuse to move around and head outside, but Spencer stayed to watch how the community interacted. The excitement had died down, but many were still eager to speak with Juarez. When he gave the baker's parent a soft brace to stabilize a previously injured knee, half a dozen members of the family insisted on thanking him. Then Pasomak, the head baker, presenting him with a wrapped bundle, presumably with some sort of baked goods inside. A few others received extra injections, but there were no miracle cures.

The group around Mantoleve was now speaking quietly of someone who had died, possibly involved with the elder's fear of outside healers. That group was solemn, but calm.

Solanen led a couple other young people over to Spencer. "Did they bring a spaceship, too? We'd really like to fly in one."

Under the youth's enthusiasm, Spencer sensed the sort of partial lie he'd felt when Dostovo hedged on the spirit plane about helping with the investigation. Not being sure how much technology Sheppard wanted to disclose, it was easy for Spencer to hedge back. "I'll have to discuss that with Sheppard later. Even if he brought a spaceship, I'm not sure he'd take anyone else inside."

"I could apprentice to Sheppard or to you. I'm very eager to learn." Solanen's eagerness was real, and Spencer wondered if his newly trained perceptions were thrown off by the crowd or the incident with Mantoleve.

Then one of the other young people, with sharp features and fabric braided into nen hair said, "Not fair. We all want to go." There was no mistaking the eagerness or perceived injustice there.

"Each of you tell me what you most want to learn about," Spencer asked on a hunch.

"I want to see my world from above, as a bird flies," the braided one said.

"How would I know if I've never been in or near a spaceship before?" another asked with scrunched up eyebrows and an air of frustration.

"I just want to learn about your people and maybe help with your work," Solanen said. More than anything before, that felt like an absolute lie. Spencer wondered what he had missed the day before.

#

Lunch was long finished and Sheppard was trying to teach the locals football when Dostovo came to Spencer and said, "Would you like to try visiting the spirit plane again?"

Spencer and Ronon had been staying close to Juarez as people came to him for immunizations and medical discussions. Juarez entered questions he couldn't answer and suggestions he wanted to research later into his tablet alongside patient information. Spencer had mostly been keeping an eye on young people and others who wanted to use his tablet for games, but many also had questions for him and Ronon about their other learning or places they'd visited. It seemed as if most of the settlement had declared a holiday and set aside their regular work to exchange stories and information with their guests. While Spencer was enjoying the opportunities to learn, being around so many people, especially with his newly heightened emotional awareness and more frequent glimpses of spirit animals, had begun to take its toll.

"Ronon, would you be okay here if I went to our tent with Dostovo?"

Naturally, Ronon had heard Dostovo's offer. Their tent was easily within sight of the common area where Juarez was working and Sheppard was running around. Ronon could keep an eye on all of them as well as Spencer, and his agreement drifted through their bond even before the Tracker nodded.

While it wouldn't have been natural for Spencer with anyone else, he made his way over to rest a hand on Ronon's back and lean in close. "If you could, keep an eye on Solanen, Mantoleve, Lalowen, and any puppets from Kapotesh."

"Most of those I was already."

Spencer wished they could talk more. He wasn't too worried about Batavo overhearing, but he was very aware that others with heightened sense might be more common on Shan Mal than anywhere else. So he left further discussion for later.

As soon as was lying down on the bedrolls ready to begin, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi appeared on his chest. Shuffling around in a circle to find a comfortable position, much the way a cat might.

Dostovo let out a chuckle beside him. "I think you'll be able to find your own way to the spirit plane this time. I'll follow you."

Spencer closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and sought out the fragile bond to the spirit plane that had been feeding into his gifts all day.

The next thing he knew, there was scratchy grass brushing his shoulders. His eyes opened to tall blue-green plant life and a pink nose with whiskers pointing every which way. The whiskers grew out of pale fur that darkened to a blonder tone before reaching soft dark eyes and twitchy rounded ears. His bond identified his spirit animal absolutely, even as his mind realized he was face to face with the ferret. Spencer was just realizing that his body felt different, furry and low to the ground, when he heard an amused voice from far above.

"Guess you didn't need any lessons to take on your spirit guide's form. Anything else you'd like to be?"

Spencer barely imagined being a cat before he thought of a dragon. Towering above Dostovo, Spencer stretched out his wings and asked, "Can I still talk like this? I guess so. Could I fly?"

"Maybe you should save that for after you've practiced a bit in a new form. Spirit Leaders may take to these things quickly, but that's not really what we came here for today. What form would you like to be in for meeting others?"

Spencer settled back into his own shape easily. "Do most people appear here as themselves?"

"Those we're meeting may have reason not to. But they'll probably show up as people. That's easiest for most with other gifts."

"Is it dangerous for them to know what I look like in real life?"

"Much less so for you than for them. It could be a sign of trust to appear as yourself."

"Then I will." Rikki seemed to take that as a cue to scurry up the pants and sweater vest that Spencer guessed he could also reimagine at will, and wrap around Spencer's neck.

Dostovo's deer did not appear, but as they walked forward, Spencer saw the lotuks from his "dream" circling in the sky.

As they reached two young people standing beneath the circling spirit creatures, Spencer noted that neither seemed as young or frail as when he'd perceived them as shadowy figures with one hurt and one crying. Still, he was sure they were the same two. When no one else spoke he said, "Greetings, I am Spencer Reid, Consulting Detective."

The smaller one, who seemed to be wrapped in several layers of pale cloth including a loose head covering said, "Greetings, you may call me One."

In s stronger, gruffer voice the person beside nen said, "Greetings, you may call me Two."

While Spencer had been guarding against gender assumptions and pronouns all day, he couldn't help but notice Two had a decidedly muscular and masculine body. Two was bare chested, wearing only loose pant, and seemed to radiate "I am masculine" along with emotions of defiance and anger. There was an underlying layer of pain that the person seemed to be suppressing.

Spencer remembered the figure in the dream who insisted he was male and wondered if either or both of these people might be from another planet. Spencer also wondered if the numbers made more sense as names in whatever language the two of them spoke. He knew of some Earth cultures where it was common for one of a child's given names to indicate their birth order, but asking or rambling about that now seemed risky. He bit his lip to stay quiet and continued to observe.

"I am already known to you all," Dostovo said. "I will gladly stay or go or assist in any way I can."

"I'd like you to stay," One said.

"Let's sit," Two said. They all sat in a circle, even as the lotuks circled above.

One hunched forward, looking smaller in nen layers of clothing. "I hear you have very advanced medicine."

"I told you I didn't want to ask for that," Two said.

"You're not asking. I'm not even asking yet." One radiated worry and frustration in that moment but it was quickly tamped down. Spencer then sensed the bond between the two, strong and clear. It seemed to hold One rooted in place despite their disagreement.

A lotuk swooped down and said, "Please, can the rest of us come help." The creature looked less birdlike close up, but not like any rendering of a pterosaur Spencer had ever seen either. Nen was more like a cross between an albatross and a small gray dragon, although still taller than the seated humans.

"You've all done enough intervening as it is," Two said.

"We didn't call him last night. That was the spirit guides," the lotuk said, nen beak open but not even pretending to mouth the words.

"But the rest of you are still speaking to your spirit guides despite that invasion of privacy." As Two's shoulders tensed, the lotuk pressed nen smooth chest and long scaly neck against nen—his?—back and rested its triangular head beside Two's neck.

In the next moment, Spencer saw that the bond between One and Two extended to the lotuk, who Spencer was pretty sure was a human bond mate appearing in animal form, given that nen had been deflecting blame onto the spirit guides. Quite possibly some of the circling lotuks were also humans taking animal form on the spirit plane. The lotuk had referred to "the rest of us." Could this whole set of lotuks be bond mates? Spencer remembered Ronon's story of eight lotuks hatched together and wondered if that many individuals could share a bond and what their gifts might be like.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said. "I'm new to everything about the spirit plane, and I'm probably not well qualified to interact with any of your cultures, even if I knew what they were. But if you'd be willing, I'd like to start over with another form of introduction. Greetings, please call me Spencer Reid. My pronouns are he and him, although I'm fine with nen. I came here because I'd sincerely like to help if I can, but that would be a lot easier if one of you could tell me what sort of help you'd want or accept. Dostovo calls me a Spirit Leader, but my people don't even have words for that."

There was a pause before the lotuk said, "Greetings, please call me Three. My pronouns are nen or she and her. I'll answer to 'busybody' if it will get these two to tell you why we're all worried about them."

"Greetings, please call me One. My pronoun is nen, and I find the rest confusing. I lost a parent recently. We all lost a bond mate recently. Two has been badly hurt, and I'd like to know if there are ways you could help, because I've done all I can. But then it would be up to Two to decide if nen—he—would accept outside help."

"Greetings. Two. He and him." The young man looked to One with open affection but projected a burst of anger that made Spencer physically tense. "My father was a greedy farmer who cut out my tongue, pulled out my front teeth, and castrated me before trying to gift me to royalty that it turns out don't even like that stuff anymore. I ended up killing my father to escape, and I don't regret it. He was evil, and I've lived through worse before this. Unless you can fix stuff without touching me, I don't care about having it fixed."

While Two rapidly smothered his anger and even physical pain, the confession stole Spencer's breath.

#

_One after the other, perfectly remembered images assaulted Spencer. Flashes of victims from BAU cases, mangled bodies in the morgue, tortured kids in photos, a teen tied to a chair hands soaked in acid—_

#

"Spencer Reid, try to calm down. You're projecting." Dostovo slowly reached a hand to grip Spencer's shoulder.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi rubbed nen head against Spencer's neck. He felt a surge of worry from his bond mate and tried to send Ronon reassurance. Spencer had learned to control himself as a profiler, but it hit him harder on the spirit plane. His body, even if it wasn't physically present, was shaking, heart pounding, muscles clenched tight.

Spencer tried to shield his emotions, as he realized the others were, but it was like trying to weave a barrier with numb hands. Then he felt the others—One, Two, Three, and Dostovo—all trying to push reassurance at him the way he'd tried to offer it to Ronon. That warmed him and made it easier to fill the gaps his upset seeped through.

"Sorry, I told you I'm new at this, and I'm not used to others feeling my emotions," Spencer's voice grew calmer the longer he talked. "I am sorry for what happened to you, Two. I am angry on many levels for what you've been through, but please trust me that none of that anger is directed at you. My previous career involved tracking down people who hurt or killed others. I am not in any position to comment on your experiences or choices. But we do have very advanced medical technology. I've seen it regenerate burned tissue. I don't know if we could help you or if it would require a doctor touching you during surgery. I could scan you and then let you know what's possible without anyone touching you, but I think we'd have to meet in person. It might also depend on how recent your injuries are."

There was a long pause. One took Two's hand and the lotuk stayed pressed to his back. Finally Two said, "Four days ago."

Spencer hoped his relief didn't show. That was before the attack on the guard. He wanted to believe that the abuse and murder in self-defense had nothing to do with his investigation regarding the guard who was shot three nights ago. But the analyst part of him knew he couldn't fully rule that out.

"Are you on another planet? Is there a way I could visit you in person, possibly bringing our medic to perform medical scans?"

"This is a bad idea," Two said.

"I'm willing to risk it," One insisted in a pleading voice. The lotuk extended a wing to wrap around nen in a very human gesture.

"Dostovo can bring you and your medic. But no touching or separating us." Two sat up straighter, away from the lotuk. He stood, pulling One up with him as they were still holding hands. "If you do anything to harm my bond mates, for any reason, I swear I will kill you, too."

"We'll do our best to respect your wishes," Spencer said, but One and Two were already walking away.

The lotuk, Three, opened nen mouth as if to speak but then hesitated. The next moment, nen beat down with both wings and launched into the air.

"Good," Dostovo said and started walking back in the opposite direction, the way from which they'd arrived.

"How is any of this good?" Spencer asked, still struggling to shield his roiling emotions as he caught up to the other Spirit Guide.

"You're the first person he's agreed to see, other than me, since he arrived on Shan Mal. I hope you can help him."

Spencer remembered the story Dostovo had told, of a long ago bond mate summoned through the ring and immediately forced to fight. However injured Two had been upon arrival, his words left no doubt that he would fight, even kill, for his bond mates. Despite his previous injuries and abuse, there was no reason he couldn't have shot a guard three nights before. And aside from the deaths of two parents, there was another dead bond mate to consider somewhere. Spencer kept silent, knowing Dostovo wasn't the right person to ask.

#

Ronon's irritation rolled over the bond to Spencer before he'd fully pulled himself back from the spirit plane.

Spencer stepped out of the tent before Dostovo to find his bond mate glaring at the Jumper now parked between the animal herds and Fast Creek. A crowd had gathered around and Sheppard was talking and petting the spaceship. Solanen and Lalowen were both part of that crowd.

"What's going on?" Spencer asked quietly.

"Sheppard couldn't resist showing off. Did some fancy flying before he landed it here. Said your message mentioned both medicine and the Jumper. I asked him to at least wait, but there was something pushing him." Ronon emphasized the last three words.

"As in something you couldn't see but maybe he could?" Spencer asked wondering if Sheppard's spirit animal could have urged him to move the Jumper. For all Spencer knew, Atlantis might have a spirit animal and be jealous of the local Sentinel.

"Looked like it from the way he moved."

A wave of helplessness crashed over Spencer. He leaned against his bond mate, realizing it was Ronon who'd felt helpless. "Glad you were watching. You still have his back. I take it he didn't seem freaked out?"

"Wouldn't show it if he did." Ronon pushed Spencer away only to shift close again to rest a hand against the small of his back.

"Has he let anyone inside?"

"No. Lots of kids are asking for rides. But I don't think that's what it's about."

Spencer reached back to grab Ronon's hand. He squeezed and tugged on their bond to emphasize the connection. "Anything else happen?"

Ronon motioned toward Juarez who still had his medical kit and tablet out amidst a mass of people that might be seen as forming a vague line. "Lots of immunizations and blood samples. Mantoleve left without any, but no fuss. Haven't heard anything from Kapotesh."

"Maybe nen is not going to respond." Spencer sighed and turned again toward Sheppard and the Jumper.

Dostovo crossed his path, blocking him for a moment without breaking stride. "Maybe nen already has. Find me when you and Juarez are ready for your visit."

In the few moments it took Spencer to reach the crowd around the Jumper, the analyst wondered if not answering was an answer or if Kapotesh might have sent a response to Dostovo instead. Perhaps that had something to do with Dostovo's efforts to teach Spencer. Kapotesh's methods seemed indirect in general, like whatever he'd meant by sending the carving of their spirit animals. Spencer wondered if the statue of Ronon given pride of place in the city had been a commission or if Kapotesh had some agenda in providing that. It was possible the popular statue had encouraged the council to ask for Lantean assistance with this case. Of course, if the carver could see everyone's spirit animals, he could be involved at some deeper level.

The young people Spencer had just met blamed their spirit guides for bringing Spencer to the spirit plane when he first thought it was a dream. But Dostovo said Spirit Leaders could both see others' spirit guides and bring others to the spirit plane. What if Kapotesh had first led him to the young outsider who needed medical help?

"How does it fly without wings?" Solanen asked.

"You saw the thrusters that came out while it was flying?" Sheppard scanned his whole audience as he patted where the thrusters had retracted into the Jumper. "Wings wouldn't work in space, but by effectively pushing something backward, the Jumper pushes itself forward."

"Like jumping is pushing off the ground," one of the small children from the miller's household shouted as nen jumped up and down.

"Sort of. There's a rule that says for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. If you have anything like a skateboard, I could show you better." Sheppard was then drawn into explaining what a skateboard was and whether something more like a wagon might work. He was negotiating for something heavy they could safely throw from the wagon and the smoothest ground to try the experiment on, when Solanen moved over to Spencer.

"Any chance you could take me inside?" Solanen asked, barely above a whisper.

It was only then that Spencer realized he wasn't picking up all sorts of random emotions as he had that morning. With a thought he reimagined the shield he'd woven to keep his own emotions in and tried to imagine a window he could open to see out. But he couldn't work that out fast enough to be of any use. "John Sheppard is already showing and explaining more that we usually do."

"But I want to learn from you." The way Solanen said it implied that was usually reason enough in this community.

Nothing about the youth's tone or posture suggested ill intent to Spencer. His curiosity seemed genuine, and Spencer wished desperately that he could tune into his emotional awareness from earlier. Suddenly, whatever defenses he'd constructed came crashing down. He stepped back and brought both hands to his head as eagerness, impatience, and even some boredom assaulted him from the crowd all around.

"Are you okay?" Solanen asked. When nen reached out to brace Spencer by the arm, Spencer flinched. Beneath honest concern and curiosity ran something oily and suspicious. Solanen wanted more than he admitted.

Rather than pulling away as he usually would, Spencer said, "My head started hurting all of a sudden. Can you take me someplace where I can sit down?"

As Solanen guided him by the arm back to where they'd all eaten earlier, Ronon started to approach. Spencer felt his concern through the bond and tried to send back reassurance. The disbelief that followed suggested he'd owe Ronon an explanation soon, but his bond mate settled for looming a fair distance away. Spencer knew he could still hear them.

While Solanen was still touching his arm, Spencer asked, "Were you curious about spaceships before we came?" He felt the suspicion and a desire to please someone else before curiosity and a desire to please Spencer dominated.

"My family says I always asked a lot of questions. If I'd ever met the Travelers, I probably would have been more curious about spaceships before this. But your people- seem to be even more advanced than the Travelers, from what I've heard, so of course I want to know all about you." Solanen helped Spencer to a seat in the shade before letting go of his arm. "Do you want some water or fruit?"

"No, thank you," Spencer said, motioning for Solanen to sit beside him. "I'm surprised you haven't taken off through the Ring already if you're so curious."

"It helps to have council permission if I want to come back. Besides, I've heard many stories of dangers elsewhere. It would be better to join a group or become someone's apprentice. You don't seem to mind my questions, and I bet I could learn a lot from you. Or from John Sheppard if you don't want me as your apprentice."

"What would the council expect if either of us wanted to take you away to work with us?"

"Nothing, any agreement would be between us, although I could consult others for advice."

Now that Spencer was away from the crowd and focused on just one person, it was easier to sense that Solanen was hiding something. "Then what sort of permission do you need from the council?"

"It's hard to explain to an outsider." That part came across as fully true, and Spencer remembered how the youth had laid out facts and sounded like an analyst when they first talked. "You feel some obligation to your people, yes?"

"Yes," Spencer agreed.

"If you left without telling anyone, they might think you didn't care anymore. That you might not come back or be loyal to them if you did. But if you introduced them to who you were traveling with and explained how you could benefit everyone with what you'd learn and do, then you'd still be acknowledging obligations to them and expect them to feel the same to you."

"That makes sense. But is there no sense that this is your home and you have a right to be here or come back here, independent of personal obligations?"

Solanen stared at him and seemed honestly confused. "Wouldn't that be like saying I have a right to the family group I grew up with even after changing my name to join the young people's camp here?"

"Don't you?"

Solanen stared some more, first at Spencer, then into the distance. "There are people who knew me, with whom I still feel mutual obligations and other connections, but I would be only a guest if I went back. In some ways I would have less 'right' to be there than someone new who had to be extended courtesy until they showed otherwise. I mean, my first family loved me and was pleased with me, so they'd probably take me back as a guest and maybe to live with them if I really wanted that and tried hard. But I have no claim on that solely because it was once my home."

There were several assumptions in what Solanen said that differed from Spencer's expectations. His most pressing question was: "Do people end up homeless here?"

"Those who deny obligations can probably find someplace to live alone where there are no other people. I suspect a lot of them die. Some may want to. There are rumors of people going beyond the falls, but I don't see why anyone there would want people who couldn't build connections elsewhere."

"Do homeless people lose the last part of their name?"

"Of course."

"Could two or more homeless people form a family and add a name?"

"They couldn't just make it up!" Solanen seemed more offended by that idea than by any before. Now he seemed totally honest. "They'd have to petition the council to restore a name that had fallen out of use."

"And if you went away, you couldn't come back here and have the name you do now?"

"Not if I was gone for long. Once people take on adult obligations, they can't join a young people's camp."

Spencer was trying not to judge, but it reassured him that there at least seemed to be a safety net to keep young people from ending up homeless. "What about Kapotesh. Didn't nen come here alone?"

"I never thought to ask, but I'd guess nen is in mourning. Sometimes the last of a family stays alone. Sometimes someone joins them later. I'm sure others know, but I'm very new here."

"So if you went away as my apprentice, with the council's blessing, what would your name be?"

"Solanreid."

There was no subterfuge Spencer could detect, only a vague sense of hope. "And if you came back, you would keep that name until you joined some other family?"

Solanen wrinkled his nose and stretched back his lips in disgust. "Only if you and all others of that name were dead. If we broke ties or dispensed obligations, the council would help me find another family, either as an apprentice or employee, at least to begin."

What Spencer had thought he understood about families on Shan Mal twisted almost upside down in his mind.

At that moment, there was a loud thump followed by several people laughing. Looking automatically toward the source of noise and emotion, Spencer saw Sheppard had thrown a heavy bag out of a wagon. The wagon had rolled forward in accordance with Newton's Third Law of Motion. Sheppard was trying to explain about mass and friction, and making it entertaining, although Spencer could imagine McKay ranting about oversimplification and useless analogies.

Noticing that Solanen was also leaning that way, watching and listening, Spencer said, "Go ahead."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure. Go learn something from Sheppard."

As soon as Solanen left, Ronon brought Spencer water and a power bar. Then his bond mate sat down so they were touching all along one side.

"Thanks," Spencer said. He didn't want to pull away, but as they touched, it became extremely apparent that Ronon was still frustrated and floundering outside his comfort zone. Extending his newly controlled senses to check on Sheppard and those around him, Spencer felt a great deal of joy and curiosity. From Sheppard in particular there was a sense for comfort and assurance that Spencer associated with having Ronon nearby and happy with him. "Did we have a scheduled check in recently?"

"Yeah, Sheppard took care of it silently, with a tap tap."

If Atlantis dialed the Gate for a radio check in and no one was free to talk, the team leader could tap once for "wait" or twice for "all clear." Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Spencer that it wasn't just the Gate tech but literally Atlantis checking in at those times. "Let me guess, Sheppard moved the Jumper right after that check in.

"Yeah." Ronon turned to look at him, and they were so close Spencer could feel his bond mate's breath on his cheek.

Spencer couldn't help but smile. "Sounds to me like someone was either jealous of the local Sentinel or didn't like the way nen treated the Jumper earlier. Or maybe Sheppard just seemed unsettled or to need a little extra watching over. I'm sure you were more than capable, but you couldn't blame his bond mate for feeling frustrated like you did—or maybe something different but with a similar outcome, I don't want to anthropomorphize."

"Huh," was all Ronon said. But Spencer felt that peculiar sort of comfort along their bond that came mostly from having Ronon close and happy with him. Spencer let himself relax and return the feeling.

#

When others started preparing dinner, Juarez packed up his supplies and moved them over beside the Puddle Jumper. A couple of locals followed him, still talking, but they wandered away when Spencer and Ronon approached.

"There's someone else we've been asked to visit," Spencer said. "Are you up for it?"

"Yes, sir." As both a medic and military, Spencer wondered if Juarez would ever think to rest. It couldn't have been easy giving immunizations and answering questions all day.

Spencer tried, "Seriously, if you need half an hour to rest or eat, it's not urgent."

"Just tell me if there's anything in particular I should bring."

"The best scanner or diagnostic tools you've got?" Spencer suggested. "Anything you might want to treat four day old wounds until we can discuss other options. And by the way, this is going to have to stay very confidential and the patient says you can't touch him."

"I'll bring the whole pack." Juarez rearranged a few items and hefted the enormous medical backpack onto his shoulders then adjusted the hip belt. "Anything else I should know?"

"Not that's mine to tell," Spencer said. "Dostovo will show us the way."

"I'll tell Sheppard and then follow you," Ronon said.

Dostovo was using more elaborate hand gestures than usual as he talked with a couple of people outside his own front door. When he saw Spencer and Juarez approaching, he made eye contact, then clasped hands with the other two people before they left.

"One moment," Dostovo said, before ducking into his house to collect a basket full of food. "We'll be visiting a house in mourning, and it will be fairly dark inside. Will that be a problem for your medical scans?"

"Not at all," Juarez said. He pulled out a flashlight and shown it into his own cupped palm. "Would this cause any problems?"

Dostovo smiled. "That's wonderful. Have you been told about not touching?"

"Yes. Is there anything else I should know or know not to ask?" Juarez asked exactly the way Spencer would have in this place.

Waving a hand in a figure eight that Spencer interpreted as a calming gesture, Dostovo said. "I know very little of the injured one who came to share the burden of loss. Both have been through a lot and are young. I've been offering food and counsel as part of the mourning process for eight days."

Spencer held back all the questions he could have asked about mourning, burial, and Dostovo's many roles in the community. He was surprised when they walked less than the distance to the young people's camp and stopped by the hut near Fast Creek that always smelled like burning herbs or incense. Dostovo had suggested someone there was in mourning on their first tour of the town, but Spencer hadn't expected the mysterious youths from the spirit plane to be so close. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ronon take position not far away, in clear line of sight but upwind.

Dostovo said aloud, "That is a good place for your bond mate to wait. He can hear if you need him and would see if anyone came closer who might upset our privacy."

Juarez showed no reaction to the term "bond mate," causing Spencer to wonder how much he knew or was piecing together. Dostovo had clearly meant for Ronon as well as those inside to hear nen analysis. Presumably it meant those they visited would allow Spencer's bond mate to hear them as well. He trusted Dostovo would have said something else if that was an issue.

"Greetings, guests, please enter." The voice was exactly as One had sounded on the spirit plane. In the triangle of light from the opening door, nen wore only a loose shift over a body that seemed thin and gangly as if growing fast, but not malnourished. On Earth, Spencer would have guessed nen as a sixteen-year-old girl. With the neutral pronouns and possible differences in length of years and more on Shan Mal, he was glad he didn't need to sort out the wording for such a report now.

As they shuffled inside and the door closed, it took a moment for Spencer's eyes to adjust to the dark. The ceiling was barely higher than Spencer's head, but the walls and roof seemed sturdy. The floor was also wood. Two walls were hidden behind hanging mats, but from the angle of the ceiling it was clear they hid not more than three feet of space on each side.

One moved to take down the hanging to the right and Dostovo took the other end naturally, then handed nen the basket of food as they rolled the mat and leaned it in one corner. "Look what Dostovo brought us," One said as nen showed the basket to someone lying on a low bed that had previously been hidden. "Thank you again for your kindness," nen said to Dostovo before rapidly unloading the items onto a shelf and setting the empty basket by the door.

There was a moment of silence. Spencer was wondering if introduction were expected or allowed when Juarez said, "Greetings, I am Tito Juarez, a medic in training as a healer. I would gladly offer you both whatever help I can."

After another long pause, One said, "Greetings, I am Lokusay. I specialize in needlework. You may call him Two for now. He cannot speak but prefers the pronouns he and him."

Spencer wondered for only a moment how Juarez might react to such a clear sign of cultural contamination.

"Greetings, Two. My pronouns are also he and him," Juarez said easily. The medic practically radiated calm and ease. "I will need a way for you to show consent. Is there a gesture you can use to say 'yes'?"

Two pushed back the sheet covering his bare chest, looking noticeably younger and less muscled than on the spirit plane, but not nearly as thin as Lokusay. He raised his right arm, palm forward.

"And for 'no'?" Juarez asked.

The hand closed into a fist.

"That's very clear, thank you. Is it okay for me to speak with you about your medical conditions or needs in front of those present?"

Two signaled yes.

"Very good." Juarez took off the large medical backpack and removed an Ancient scanner he'd packed right on top. "If I move this around your body, without touching you, to collect information and images, is that okay?"

At the signal for yes, Jaurez began the most thorough exam Spencer had ever seen conducted without touching a patient. When prompted, Two was willing and able to roll to each side, open his mouth, and even spread his legs, albeit still covered by the thin sheet.

After about ten minutes, Juarez stepped back. "Thank you for cooperating with all that. About your tongue and testicles, I would need to consult with the healer training me. Would you like me to tell you what I can now?"

At the signal for yes, Juarez said. "Please signal 'no' if you wish me to stop speaking at any time and 'yes' if you want more clarification. At a minimum, I could create a bridge to fill the gaps in your teeth that you could place and remove yourself. You have two bruised ribs, which are healing well but must still hurt you a lot. Your lungs are weakened from previous infection and you're a bit anemic. Both of those I could help if you'll allow me to give you injections. I could probably coach Lokusay though all the parts that actually require touching your skin, if you are both amenable to that. I would be wearing latex gloves, so there would be no skin to skin contact in any case. I also have a medicine you can eat, like food, that I have offered to everyone here. It protects against some colds and sinus infections, and would be especially helpful given the state of your lungs. I'm guessing that you're not from this planet."

Spencer wondered for only a moment how Juarez had guessed, then realized that despite the dim light, Two's skin was much paler than others on Shan Mal. Although there might be a faint tinge of orange already. It was hard to tell in the dim lantern light and the faint glow of the Ancient scanner. But anyone local who saw Two would have immediately seen him as an outsider. What Dostovo had said about being the only one who'd come inside during the mourning period suddenly took on a new significance.

Meanwhile, Juarez had continued speaking to his patient. "If so, then there's an immunization for second childhood and a wide range of blood tests that I would also recommend. If you are willing to travel off planet and my teacher agrees, we might be able to partially repair your tongue and genitals, but unless my teacher knows techniques I've never seen, that would involve a healer touching you, through gloves. Lokusay could stay with you, if you're both willing to go off world for that. If you decide you would consider that, then I will come back with more details about options and what's involved after I confer with the healer training me. Do you want time to think before deciding on any of this?"

Two signaled yes and they stepped outside, leaving Lokusay and Two alone.

Juarez's professional demeanor crumbled as soon as he was outside. His shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. "Did you know ahead of time what was done to him?"

"Yes," Spencer said. "I'm sorry. I didn't feel I could say anything in case he changed his mind."

"It's fine. I understand. I guess as a military medic, at least at the postings I've had, I'm not used to seeing kids, and well… I'd kind of like to be at war with whoever would do that to a kid." Juarez was broadcasting disgust and anger that Spencer had barely recognized as not his own.

He was able to partially reweave his emotional shield with just a minute's thought, something that should have made him feel better than it did. He wished he could tell Juarez that the person who hurt Two was dead, but that wasn't Spencer's secret to share either. "I feel the same way. If you'll handle the medical parts, I promise I'll do what I can to address all the rest."

Ronon caught Spencer's eye from across the way. He fisted his hands as if to say he was ready to help with that, and Spencer realized he'd need a revised set of professional rules for what to keep private and what might need to be shared when he worked off world as a Consulting Detective.

Lokusay opened the door to invite them back inside. Nen told them, "He'll agree to the injections, blood test, and medicine if only I touch him. I would very much like to learn whatever I can to help. The work of healers has always interested me. Could you show us what gloves you plan to wear? A word you used was unknown to either of us."

Juarez pulled out latex gloves for himself and Lukosay and confirmed Two's consent. The medic explained about saving information to his tablet and collected Two's fingerprints, saying the name "Two" himself. He carefully handed Two the flashlight to hold, all without touching him directly. Then he took Lokusay through his field sanitation precautions for cleaning their own hands before pulling on gloves and giving Two injections and taking blood. He narrated every step, staying calm and reassuring whenever Two tensed or Lokusay asked extra questions. At the end, he asked Lokusay if he could scan nen and save information to his table. Nen agreed, giving nen fingerprints and saying nen name.

Checking through the scan results Juarez said, "Please forgive me if this is an uncomfortable question, but I understand you're in mourning. Did the person who died here have something that affected breathing?"

"Toward the end, but nen was dying before that."

"I understand. I'd like to take a blood sample and give you one of the same injections I gave Two, due to his compromised lungs. I think you're mostly recovered, but you've been fighting off a lung infection as well. And it wouldn't hurt you to receive the second childhood immunization."

Lokusay actually looked happy about the proposed injections, and Spencer's partially shielded gift agreed nen was sincere. "Thank you for your kind offer. I accept."

While Juarez cleaned the site and prepared for Lokusay's injections he asked Two, "Should I look into what further help we could offer off world even if it would involve a healer touching you through gloves?"

Two looked at Lokusay who then said, "He's still not sure what he could tolerate. If I couldn't go with him off world, could someone from another planet take my place and stay with him through every part?"

Juarez said, "I think so. We can also give him medicine to sleep through any procedures so long as he consents, and you could stay with him start to finish. Can you tell me why it might not be you? He seems to trust you a great deal, and I'd want to know the other person was equally trustworthy."

There was another long, shared look between Lokusay and Two. "Oh," Two said, "The person who hurt him is dead. Is that's what you're worried about? Don't worry. He wants nothing to do with anyone on that planet. We have another bond mate who would come if I cannot leave with him."

Juarez nodded.

Spencer couldn't help but ask, "Why could he leave but not you?"

"It is unclear who is allowed to come and go through the Ring now. Two hasn't taken on a name or any obligations here. I have." Spencer understood this much better after his talk with Solanen but Lokusay's take on the situation seemed a bit different.

"Would you want to travel with him if you could? Would he plan to come back here after?" Spencer asked as carefully as he could.

"It's complicated." The answer was just as frustrating and just as final as if Lokusay were a teenager from Earth.

#

Soon afterward, Spencer and Juarez were regrouping outside with Sheppard and Ronon.

"We need to go back to base tonight." The way Sheppard said "base" suggested they might be overheard. Spencer wondered if the military leader was always so cautious off world or if he'd taken his lead from Spencer saying they might be overheard after the confrontation with Batavo that morning.

"I need another day here," Spencer said.

"I'd want to return tomorrow to follow up with patients," Juarez said.

"Ronon and I could stay until you and Sheppard return tomorrow," Spencer offered.

Ronon grunted in assent, but Sheppard shook his head. "Don't make me pull rank here. We need to debrief. I want to take the whole team back to base overnight. Anyway, Ronon could use some sleep."

"What?" Spencer turned to Ronon, studying his tired eyes and tugging gently at their bond. "Didn't you sleep at all last night?"

Ronon grunted noncommittally, and there wasn't any clear emotion Spencer could sense with his gifts or their bond. A sudden fear grew in Spencer that he might be endangering his bond mate or, at the very least, being thoughtless to his boyfriend. Ronon seemed much better attuned to Spencer's emotions than vice versa. Resting a hand on Spencer's shoulder he said, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

"Ronon won't sleep in the field with civilians," Sheppard said. "He's gone more than one night when left with McKay or displaced persons, but we try to avoid it."

"I'm not exactly a civilian in need of protection," Spencer said half to Sheppard and half to his bond mate. Juarez discreetly looked away.

"Not saying you are," Ronon answered as his protectiveness flowed through their bond. "Some other mission, you could take a watch at night."

"I could take a watch tonight."

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck. "Or we could all meet, sleep, and come back tomorrow."

There were too many misassumptions crowding Spencer's analysis of the situation. He needed to trust those who'd worked in Pegasus and Atlantis longer. "Do you think we should head back for the night?" Spencer asked Ronon.

"Either way." Ronon shrugged his shoulder in a way that didn't communicate nearly enough.

"Fine," Spencer said. "Give me a few minutes to let Dostovo know our plans."

#


	4. 4

"You want what?" Woolsey asked, as upset as Spencer had ever seen the nominal leader of the expedition. Their whole team was back on Atlantis at the triangular table with Woolsey and Beckett. They'd run through a basic debriefing and Beckett had reported on possible treatments they could offer Two.

"You heard what Beckett said. The only way to help is to bring Two back here, and every day we delay may limit how much we can help." Spencer didn't know Woolsey well, but he tried appealing to his humanity. "This is a kid whose own father had someone cut out his tongue and castrated him. Our agreement with the council and what I've learned locally makes it easy to take him with us. If I offered to take Lokusay as my apprentice, or maybe to learn medicine from Juarez or Beckett, nen might be able to come as well. Or there's the other person they mentioned. Two needs help soon, and he's clearly traumatized and needs someone with him for emotional support."

"Two won't even tell us his real name," Woolsey responded, not sounding at all convinced. "From your reports, he didn't seek our help. He may not even want treatment when he knows what's involved. Do you realize how many people in Pegasus would beg to move to Atlantis if they knew about it? You had some other kid who actually asked to be your apprentice. How will this look to him?"

"Nen," Spencer corrected without thinking.

"You said Gate translation would take care of that." Woolsey rested both hands flat on the table and took a deep breath.

"Only when you're talking to someone who speaks such a language, but for English speakers interacting with—"

"I want to adopt him," Ronon said.

"What?" Woolsey asked.

"What?" Spencer echoed.

"How it works. Right?"

Spencer knew the games Ronon played with Woolsey. He didn't have to like it, but he wouldn't interfere if his boyfriend wanted to play on his clueless alien image.

"There are forms, medical checks…" Woolsey's voice trailed off and he looked to the Head of Medicine in defeat or maybe resignation. "Dr. Beckett, you've handled cases where Pegasus natives living here adopted orphans after a culling. Would you support treating this the same way?"

The abrupt change in Woolsey's attitude shocked Spencer. On his first visit to the children's center, he'd seen how many adopted kids there were, and how many had one parent native to Pegasus. He'd later attended a meeting to raise cultural awareness about adoption and family structures between populations. Still, Spencer didn't know the policies involved on Atlantis.

Ronon, in his pretended ignorance, must have known Woolsey wouldn't fight this demand.

"If the lad and his family of choice agree, I believe I would." Beckett had only seen the scans Juarez brought back, but his contempt for what had been done and desire to help came across to Spencer as clearly as Juarez's first open reaction. "I could go over the requirements and forms with Ronon tonight and be ready for medical intake and surgery tomorrow morning."

Woolsey shook his head at all of them. "Fine, meeting adjourned."

#

After a quick dinner, they all reconvened in Beckett's office. Spencer wasn't surprised when Sheppard and McKay tagged along, but he hadn't expected Teyla and Juarez to attend. The office wasn't that large. Sheppard perched on the edge of Beckett's desk, slouched against the Ancient monitor. Juarez stood by the door and Ronon stood behind Spencer's chair.

McKay sat across from Spencer in one of chairs Beckett kept for visitors. "We have a problem." For once he looked at those present rather than at some electronic device. "Lokusay's fingerprints match those on the bow."

For a moment the room was silent.

"Are you sure?" Sheppard asked.

"Genius, remember?" McKay kicked Sheppard playfully, but to Spencer the move was also clearly affectionate. "And I checked with both Ancient and Earth tech." He waved a tablet and then quickly became distracted by something on the screen.

"Perhaps Lokusay was defending Two?" Beckett suggested.

"Nen had been in mourning for eight days, since nen parent died. Dostovo said Two came to share the burden of loss." Spencer should have been able to tell if Dostovo was lying, but it was too soon to trust his gift for investigation purposes, especially around Dostovo. Still, to the extent he could trust any of his instincts in another galaxy, he believed the other Spirit Leader had been truthful and made it clear when he held back private information. "Two was injured four days ago on another planet, so clearly he had his own motivations to emigrate. But I saw their bond. It is real and includes at least one other who they implied was on another planet. They also said they'd lost a bond mate. So these kids seem to have formed a bond that included at least four different people who didn't originate on the same planet. I should have asked more. I didn't want to press too hard and upset their trust, but now that information seems crucial to the investigation. Does anyone have ideas?"

"You know there's a Sentinel in the hill group?" Sheppard asked, eyes carefully fixed on Spencer, although his head was tilted to take in the door with his peripheral vision. Spencer was better positioned to see Juarez's moment of surprise at his commanding officer's use of the term, but nothing more.

"Yes. Sorry, they call them Guardians. I didn't know how to tell you before you joined us. I'm trying to understand their privacy taboos and boundaries for sharing personal information. But the Guide, or Spirit Leader as they would say, gave me reason to believe that bond mates, especially Sentinels and Guides, had been persecuted or coerced for information in the past. It was made very clear to me that we could endanger their community by even suggesting to the council what seems to be a mostly open secret among the hill people."

"Can two groups so close together be so disconnected?" Beckett asked.

Spencer leaned forward. "The council, school, and community by the Ring seem to control what is taught or openly discussed in a way similar to agitprop in Soviet Russia on Earth. Instead of open violence, the hill people mostly ignore such fluctuations in doctrine. If you'll allow me to switch analogies, while their geographic isolation on Shan Mal is minimal, there were also isolated hill tribes in Cambodia that managed to ignore the Khmer Republic's dictates even as other tribes joined Pol Pot to form the Khmer Rouge. In that case, there were outside countries that worked with the independent hill people and others that forced the issue, increasing the level of violence. If this society has avoided open conflict thus far, I'd hate for us to be the outside power that upsets the balance."

"Avoiding open conflict is not the same as peace," Teyla said. "You had two different young people question if they could leave and then return. Their Ring of the Ancestors is guarded now by guards who answer only to the council. Even if his other injuries were less apparent, how did a guard respond to the boy you call Two arriving without a tongue, unable to communicate. Perhaps he arrived without incident before the guard, Tarafan, was shot. But surely someone must have come with him or come to meet him, at the very least to explain his visit to the guard."

"Or his bond mate shot a guard who would have stopped or questioned him," Sheppard said.

"While Lokusay profiles as someone who could shoot in self-defense, and that might extend to shooting to protect a bond mate, this shooting was premeditated or at least prepared for as a possibility. It would only make sense if nen expected the guard to try to kill Two." Spencer covered his eyes with one hand. "I've been blind. I never asked how they lost their other bond mate. Teyla, have you heard anything about a new arrival being killed?"

Teyla pressed her hands together, which caused Spencer to uncover his face and sit up straighter. However he'd failed this investigation so far, he needed to regroup and objectively assess new information.

"There was no mention of anyone killed since our battle there. However, Tarafan, who was shot, turned out to be related, a half-brother on their father's side, to Paranok, the Head of Security. While Paranok seems generally well respected, there are whispers of favoritism toward his brother. He is rumored not only to have helped Tarafan become a guard but to have covered up several indiscretions. As Dr. Reid suggested, people there are reluctant to speak of any but the officially sanctioned versions of events. I did not expect that would extend to murder, but if so, their society may be more violent than we perceived."

Spencer wondered if Teyla's use of male gender and pronouns came from Gate translation into Athosian or if the community near the Gate was that different from the hill people he'd interacted with most recently. It seemed irrelevant to the case, but Spencer needed this team to contribute everything they had if they were going to interfere on another planet and hope to bring real justice.

"Could I project our notes from the earlier debriefs on the wall in here?" Spencer asked. "I think we need to review everything we know."

"Place your tablet here, by the Ancient monitor." Beckett motioned with one hand as he pulled a tin out of a desk drawer with the other. When he opened the lid, everyone could smell the ginger cookies inside. McKay made a grab for them, but Beckett started by passing them around the room in the opposite direction. "Would anyone like some tea?"

"Yes, please," both Teyla and Juarez agreed in near unison.

While Beckett fiddled with tea things, Spencer appreciated his virtual whiteboard for the first time. He rearranged notes from before, added what they knew now, and moved physical evidence and profiling data aside to focus on underlying issues. "First, there are many signs of factions misunderstanding or denying information to each other. They deny the Gate has opened in the last fifty years, that people beyond the falls might influence them, that hand gestures are used to circumvent Gate translations, that guards may be preventing free Gate transit now, that bond mates exist, that the council or others have oppressed or manipulated Sentinels and Guides in the past, and that the spirit plane and spirit animals exist."

McKay scoffed, "Like we aren't hiding half or that from our government."

"And that might be an issue we need to revisit." Spencer looked to Juarez who nodded as if he understood what Spencer wanted to reveal next. "I have the greatest respect for Juarez, and we all took him into the field with our team. But this morning he was confronted with spirit animals for the first time, in a hostile situation, in the field. That wasn't fair to him, and it could have been dangerous. What's more, the spirit animals didn't react to the Jumper uncloaking, because they apparently aren't fooled by our cloaking technology to begin with. The Sentinel that Sheppard referred to earlier went nearly feral with rage at a 'wrongness' which seemed to be the cloaked Jumper or something to do with Ancient tech. Whether nen picked that up with enhanced senses or from the spirit animals' awareness, we've learned about several issues that could endanger teams on other planets due to our secrecy."

Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck. "Is Juarez like you?" he asked Spencer.

"I don't know exactly."

Ronon volunteered, "Healers often have gifts. Some touch based. Some spirit based."

"From what little I've learned so far," Spencer said, "I'd guess Juarez's gifts are spirit based, like mine, since he saw multiple people's spirit animals." Spencer was careful not to volunteer his suspicions that Sheppard's gifts were spirit-based too, while Beckett's seemed more likely to be grounded in touch.

By that point, Beckett was serving tea to Teyla and Juarez. The cookies had ended up with McKay, and Spencer risked losing a hand to snatch one. It was worth it. Beckett really did make the best ginger snaps.

"There's a story about both kinds of healers working together on Sateda," Ronon said. "I could translate it."

"How would you feel about us translating more of those stories?" Spencer asked, and Ronon nodded slowly. "If we end up bringing those kids here, spirit animal sightings might become more common. We wouldn't have to give away anyone's personal secrets to start educating people with local stories."

"Sharing stories is a respected tradition." Teyla added, "In time, we could perhaps arrange a community meeting to offer cultural perspectives beyond the Satedans' on such gifts." She sipped her tea and Spencer wished he and Ronon liked the stuff. Instead, he shifted closer to his bond mate, feeling a different sort of warmth.

"If you can find people willing to speak openly about spirit guides or gifts, that would help a lot, once we're ready." Spencer couldn't help adding, "But we need a discussion on gender and pronouns first. There must be some part of our population from Earth that would welcome it. And with these kids, I've realized different cultures here may make very different gender assumptions, while some might not even have a concept of gender."

"Agreed," Teyla sat forward as if truly interested. "I learned in the last two days that the school for training gifted ones on Shan Mal also teaches about such differences. There are various opinions about local dialects that use only one pronoun. Some considering them primitive, as they do beliefs in the spirit plane, others considering them more open to diversity. The comforters and students seem to perform and refer to gender as if it were a fashion where the rules shift season to season. Most of the guards and those I met at market who came from surrounding farms and collectives are more like Athosians. They partially relate gender to the practicalities for bearing children, but with respect for personal variations. Such fashions in the city are somewhat dismissed by the guards and rural people, along with trends applied to historical and spiritual beliefs."

It occurred to Spencer that Lokusay had first learned about gender pronouns from Two. Two seemed to have first learned about gifts and the spirit plane from Lokusay or others in their cluster. Lokusay communicated with them all, despite presumably speaking different languages, even though nen had clearly never traveled through the Gate. In addition, the Ancient language used gendered pronouns, but at least Spencer's spirit animal emphatically did not. Taken together, Spencer would guess the translation protocols built into the Gate system were based on something inherent to the spirit plane, and the need for gender and pronoun adjustments had existed from the start.

"Bringing this back to where we started, you think Tarafan killed Lokusay's and Two's bond mate?" Beckett asked. "That's a horrible thought, especially considering their other losses and trauma. But if we believe such a thing, why would the council call Dr. Reid to investigate?"

"Politics," Sheppard said flatly. "Or it could be the council wasn't in on the cover up."

Beckett looked at Sheppard, who only shrugged. Then he turned to Juarez, who had remained silent throughout the discussion. "What was your assessment of Tarafan?"

"He had not recovered full consciousness since he was shot, although he was not in a coma. There were times when he opened his eyes or spoke but was incoherent. Minimal signs of infection. I gave him a broad-spectrum antibiotic just in case. The surgery to remove both arrows was competent given local conditions and further invasive procedures would do more harm than good. I'd say he has a good chance at full recovery, but I hoped you'd review the scans."

As Beckett brought the records up on his computer, McKay mumbled, "Sounds like he needs a psych eval if he recovers."

"That would almost certainly require cultural insights we don't possess. Perhaps someone local?" Spencer looked to Teyla.

"I would be happy to inquire as to local specialties when appropriate."

"But first, I need to go back and ask those kids questions I should have asked before," Spencer moved to push up from his chair.

"Tomorrow," Sheppard said, his eyes flicking pointedly to Ronon.

Beckett nodded. "Juarez and I are preparing a presentation, with pictures, about more and less invasive medical options. And we'll see to the security of all medical data, including anything that might relate to gifts or bonds." The two shared a long look that Spencer didn't want to feel the emotion behind. He'd trust Beckett to deal with whatever Juarez needed to know. "Ronon, do you still want the paperwork for bringing an orphan to Atlantis?"

"Yeah, but I need to talk to Spencer."

"I've prepared two copies." Beckett handed them each a stack of papers. "A scanned version would be sent to Earth, but we keep paper copies of all local contracts. I know there's no one else to show from Sateda, but Shan Mal strikes me as a society that might be impressed by seeing something official, even if they don't usually write their contracts."

Spencer was once again impressed at how much Beckett noticed and thought to explain.

Sheppard clapped his hands. "Ten hours' rest, everyone. We'll be back on Shan Mal by early morning local time."

#

"Maybe I should sleep in my room, so you get more rest," Spencer offered.

Ronon tugged Spencer into the room they'd shared almost every night since returning from Earth. "You planning not to sleep?"

"No, of course I'll sleep too. But I'm not always the most restful person. You didn't get any sleep last night, and I didn't even notice. Some profiler I am." Spencer kicked a foot at the floor and felt very small. "Even with a Spirit Leader's gift for picking up others' emotions and dishonesty, I met with our top suspect twice and didn't even notice. I had no idea how you felt most of the day even with my gifts and our bond, which makes me a pretty lousy bond mate and boyfriend. Everything is new here, and I only ever succeeded within a narrow range of expectation even on Earth. What if I can't learn fast enough?"

It was only when Ronon pulled him into a hug that Spencer realized his boyfriend was naked. When he focused, he could replay the memory of Ronon removing knives from his hair and clothing as fast as Garcia could type. He'd unlaced and removed all his clothing as smoothly as pulling down a zipper. But Spencer had failed to appreciate any of it, too caught up in his own head.

"I should go. I'm no use to you like this." Spencer pushed back, and Ronon let him.

Standing inches apart, Ronon met his eyes and said, "Won't sleep better apart."

"I'm sorry." Spencer's shoulders dropped, knowing it was true. "Tell me anything I can do that will help."

"Shower with me. Need to touch you as much as I need sleep." Somehow Ronon was already as skilled at removing Spencer's clothes as his own. The Tracker dragged him into the instantly warm Ancient shower and pressed their foreheads together.

Warm water sluiced through Spencer's hair and down his back. Ronon's hands flowed with it, stopping to circle here and there like eddies in a stream, massaging or caressing.

"I wanted to help you," Spencer said, trying to run his hands along Ronon's back, but it was still dry.

"This helps. Shared burdens, shared comfort, connection." When Ronon breathed deeply beside Spencer's neck, he knew the Tracker was scenting him. Through their bond, he could feel Ronon relaxing, and it seemed to affect both of them together.

Spencer grabbed the loofah Ronon had discovered on their visit to Earth. If was too rough for Spencer's oversensitive skin, but Ronon liked it as a first pass at cleaning. "Why do I feel less emotion from you than from other people now?"

Ronon shrugged. "Sure you'll feel whatever matters."

"Sleep matters." Spencer rubbed the loofah up and down Ronon's back, angling him into the spray of warm water.

"Felt fine all day, except when people upset you, or listening to Two."

"Is that why you want to adopt him?"

Ronon stilled and looked deeply into Spencer's eyes. "I wanted so much to be in that room. With the burning herbs, I couldn't scent him or Lokusay. I probably could have linked nen to the bow without fingerprints if it weren't for that smell. Maybe it's better this way. Because I listened. I don't have your spirit gifts, but I trusted Lokusay. I still do, even if nen shot that guard. The way nen cares for Two is so much like how I feel for you. I could feel it resonating. But they both need a protector, or at least a reliable adult in their lives. Two couldn't speak, but I heard every move he made, effort despite pain, putting up with the whole exam mostly to ease Lokusay's worry, holding nen when they sent you outside. I would adopt them both, but being siblings might not suit them. Do you think they're in love?"

Spencer buried his face in Ronon's wet chest hair, dragging the loofah down to Ronon's ass and thighs. "I have no idea. Why am I so bad at this?"

"You're not. You were trying to bring him here. Why?"

"It seemed the logical solution for Two's medical needs." Spencer felt his bond mate sigh, waiting for a real reason. "I guess I felt protective toward them, from that first dream on the spirit plane. You know, I think Kapotesh might have dragged me there to see them. Maybe it was meant to answer my question about the shooter, but I think there's more going on. Is it possible Kapotesh sent that statue to the city to encourage them to think of us when planning this investigation?"

"If Kapotesh has gifts and some larger plan, what we feel could have started on the spirit plane. Maybe those kids called out to us. Or maybe the spirit animals set us up."

Spencer shook his head, still processing Rikki-Tikki-Tavi's insistence that Spencer was called through the Gate to bond with Ronon. "I don't know. But you're sure you're not adopting anyone because I proposed bringing them here?"

"I'm sure. Knew Woolsey couldn't stop me. Easier for Athosians and other locals to adopt." Ronon pulled Spencer closer than seemed possible, even while wet and naked in the shower. Spencer set aside the loofah to hug back, while Ronon said, "I won't risk neglecting you, and I won't go through with this unless you want them, too."

Spencer moaned. "Spirit plane or not, I want them here. Even if one might be our unsub, and none of this makes any sense. And I think I'm suffering from imposter syndrome."

A nutty scent surrounded them as Ronon began to wash Spencer with a combination body and hair wash that Teyla has suggested. "What's imposter syndrome?"

"It's when someone doubts their competence or accomplishments and fears others will realize they're not qualified or not all that they were assumed to be. I'm supposed to be an analyst, a Consulting Detective. Yet I wrongly assumed you slept. I misused gender pronouns even though I've studied linguistics and even met a few people who used alternate pronouns on Earth. I want to help those kids and maybe their community and their planet, but I'm such an imposter in this galaxy—in my work, this relationship, all the spirit stuff—as if I didn't suffer enough imposter's syndrome on Earth."

After running sudsy hands under Spencer's arms and other sweaty or furry areas, Ronon asked, "So if no one expects anything, a person can't feel like an imposter?"

"They could still expect more of themselves." After a quick rinse, Ronon's hands laced through Spencer's hair to begin a top down wash. This had become enough of a routine that Spencer's body relaxed in anticipation.

"Even if there's no one else around, ever?"

Spencer was melting beneath the warm water and Ronon's touch. "Umm, I think you derail my brain when you do this. And I'm not sure I've read anyone who addressed that aspect of imposter syndrome. Is there a reason you're asking?"

"Seven years as a Runner. I think I questioned my competence more than ever before. Certainly questioned my achievements, awards, rank. Most days, I didn't think I knew enough to survive."

Spencer buried his head beneath Ronon's chin and then used his soapy hair like a mop to wash his mate's neck and shoulders. "Way to put my issues in perspective."

"Your perspective is as valid as mine," Ronon said, and Spencer knew from the tone he was quoting someone or some movie. A teasing reminder that Spencer was the perpetual outsider on Earth as well. Spencer silently spread body wash across Ronon's arms and torso.

"My whole world is gone," Ronon said, "So I guess I'm an imposter for trying to fit in anywhere. But I feel less that way with you."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you." Ronon pulled him in close, rubbing their bodies together in a very indirect method of cleaning. Spencer let his soapy arms roam to wash Ronon's back and ass. "I'm still worried I'll disappoint you. Even on Earth, I could never understand enough, and I was dealing with people who mostly grew up speaking English and fit known patterns of behavior. I didn't necessarily fit into expected behaviors or know what to expect in social settings, so even there I felt like an imposter, but here…"

"Maybe your uniqueness makes you better at seeing other perspectives." Ronon ran a slippery leg around and between Spencer's. "You saw me. You saw more about the people on Shan Mal than I did. Traveling between planets might favor your type of thinking, and the hill people were all about learning and personal growth. You fit in pretty well."

Spencer's cock was half hard, his body reacting as Ronon turned him around. Water drops pattered across his front and a still soapy Ronon slid up and down behind him, not actually thrusting against him, but not unaffected either. Spencer hated to kill the mood, but his brain wouldn't stop churning. "But I felt like such a failure there."

"If your only goal was to guess, on your own intuition, who fired an arrow."

"Which was the goal of the investigation." Spencer stilled as Ronon held him close, still back to front.

Ronon's beard tickled wet against his ear as he said. "But was it your goal? Why set up the fingerprinting or follow leads on the spirit plane if you only wanted to solve the problem by profiling people in person? You said before, you wanted to learn more about gifts, bonds, and spirit animals. You've learned more than any of us. More than Beckett, Sheppard, and McKay learned in how many years? And now you want to help Lokusay and Two, however the rest works out, don't you?"

"We need to look over the papers Beckett gave us." Spencer's head dropped back against Ronon's shoulder.

"If we rinse off and do that, can I keep you naked in bed?"

It was impossible for Spencer to do anything but smile and agree. He wanted this time together and touching at least as much as Ronon did. "Anything you want."

"Anything we want." Ronon kissed his neck, but then rinsed them both efficiently.

#

Ronon was scowling at the first page of the adoption paperwork when Spencer finished reading his copy. They'd settled in the corner of Ronon's bed with walls on both sides. Ronon sat in back with Spencer settled between his legs. It was a nice position to be in. Normally Spencer would cuddle in and wait, but when he shifted to see Ronon's eyes, it was clear the Tracker was no longer reading.

"I'm guessing you're not stuck on the legalese."

"Why does it start with conditions for termination of responsibility?" Ronon asked.

"It's an Earth contract meant to protect Earth interests. To put it bluntly, they don't care about a Pegasus native adopting another Pegasus native except in what it might cost them. Effectively, they want you to take responsibility for any damage the kid might do to Atlantis or Earth property, and they want to make sure you're not adopting just to provide food, shelter, and medical care at Earth's expense."

"Where's the part about what I plan to provide or why I'm adopting?" Ronon flipped through the pages, reading the section headings. His ability to read English was good, but not advanced enough to skim the document.

"Page three: provide daily care and nurturing, arrange for any education needed beyond what is offered by the Atlantis Children's Center, make arrangements for adult supervision when parent is not available," Spencer recited from memory.

"That's all?"

"We could give them the benefit of the doubt and believe they're trying to avoid culturally biased assumptions."

"It's really none of their business." Ronon set the paper aside. "It is your business. Any commitment I make also affects you." His arms settled around Spencer's torso.

"You know I'd do it if you didn't. I wish we could put both our names on the paperwork, but that would require even more forms to be filed on Earth. If Two even wants this, we can talk to him and whoever comes with him about how it should work long term. Mostly, I hope they want more of an apprenticeship model, because I don't feel qualified to parent."

Ronon started gently kneading Spencer's shoulders, his love and concern soothing through their bond. "This imposter syndrome again?"

"Maybe." Spencer sighed. Instead of fidgeting with his hands, he slowly traced around Ronon's knees and a few inches up and down his thighs. "Studies on mentalization show people trust their own intuition less the farther away they move from situations and cultures they know. And there are so many biases inherent in how the brain works. Is it right to take young people away from their culture, even if we know our medical care is better and in theory we let them decide?"

"Two already left his planet. Call it adoption, apprenticeship, or family of choice. We have enough to offer him some."

"What if we can't ever understand what he's been through or his perspective?"

Easing Spencer's shoulder forward a few inches, Ronon worked his hands down Spencer's back. "We keep learning about each other. That's family."

"You realize there's no end to it, no way to overcome all our biases?"

"No end to it sounds good." Ronon stroked up Spencer's sides, across his chest, and looped back to where he started.

"Are we still talking about the kids?" Spencer's skin warmed up, and he became hyperaware of Ronon's touch, even his breath across Spencer's neck.

"There's some stuff about my life I don't want you or anyone else to understand. Not fully. Not on a deep level." He rubbed Spencer's lower back more seriously, but with obvious care. "What happened to Two, we'll never understand the way he does. Doesn't mean we can't connect enough to matter. To help each other."

"Does your connection to me ever make you feel less connected to the team? To Teyla? To the Pegasus Galaxy?"

"Never thought of it that way. I don't think of Pegasus the way you do. I'm loyal to Sheppard as a leader in ways I don't think he'll ever understand. The team is something all its own, like family, but we're closer since I met you. Since we bonded and talked about the other bonds."

"I can't believe I have all this." Spencer slid his hands up Ronon's thighs all the way to his hips, even though he wasn't talking about anything physical. Somehow it all fit. Even when nothing seemed to make sense, Spencer felt like he fit with Ronon and with his new life in Pegasus in ways he'd never fit anyplace before.

"I'd given up on kids, relationships, peace. Maybe it's an easier choice for me now, because I never expected to survive Running, let alone outlast the Wraith. I believe because I went past belief and came out the other side."

"You're still a poet." Spencer pulled Ronon's hand up to kiss the knuckles. "Next time you finish checking boxes for your mission report and we're all still writing, you can write a poem. It will make so much more sense than what we write."

Ronon laughed and took Spencer's hand to his lips. "I thought of a story with someone from Sateda who used the le pronoun."

"I'd like to hear it, but I'm worried I'm keeping you awake."

Leaning forward, Ronon pressed an obvious erection against Spencer's backside. "I'm thinking we might both want something more before sleep. Tell me what you want."

"You could have had me in the shower." Spencer rolled his hips as his body responded to the mere suggestion.

"I wanted all of this with you tonight. You fill my senses. My thoughts. My connection to you, and that's more than the bond our gifts brought us. I ache with wanting you in so many ways. But I'm happy watching you work, seeing you adapt moment to moment, learn from every person you meet." Ronon slid his hands low to cup Spencer's ass. "I want sex with you. But I want to fill your mind with stories, too."

"Please," Spencer gasped, amazed at how Ronon's words made every touch more arousing.

With a kiss to his neck, Ronon leaned to one side for the lube he kept in a drawer. Then he started to tell a story in his deep, measured poet's voice without even a hint that he was fingering Spencer's hole with one hand and stoking Spencer's thigh with the other.

"There was a child named Daran who grew up like many others, running wild in the grasslands of rural Sateda. She had two brothers and two sisters. They all learned to milk the sturms and ride the chipolos. They built bird feeders and wove baskets to catch fish. And when she passed the exams to enter the academy in the capital, she planned to study art. She shared a room with a woman law student named Zoonem and a classroom easel with a man named Platop. For most of a season she explored her studies and her new home with each of them, loving the way each thought and spoke. She would throw an arm around whichever one she was walking with and pull close to either when they sat and talked."

Ronon pulled Spencer up as the finger he'd been working inside slid deep. Spencer hissed and then moaned, his body more than welcoming. Soon Ronon added a second finger and stroked until he found Spencer's prostate. He'd completely derailed Spencer's mind from the story before he continued, voice mostly calm, although Spencer sensed his lover's amused arousal over their bond. That and the multitasking pushed right through any defenses Spencer had left. He basked in the moment.

"In the next season, Daran decided to study philosophy and exposition. She spent more time by herself in a study room or writing. But everything she read was informed by what she knew of Platop and Zoonen. When she wrote for herself, she wrote about how she saw them and how she saw herself more clearly as she learned and meditated."

A third finger. Spencer was reeling.

"To become 'le' on Sateda is to declare oneself neither male nor female. I can't speak for the whole culture, but I did not see as much division between the two assigned genders on Sateda as there seems to be on Earth. Perhaps I was too young or too caught up with what mattered to me. Often at the point of transition, those who became le would shave their heads or otherwise shift their outward appearance, but for some it was a more spiritual transition."

"For Daran it was important to be reintroduce as 'le' before changing appearance. The two le told first were Zoonem and Platop. 'I see you both as perfectly yourselves,' le told them. 'I want you to see me as myself. Please know me from this time forward as le. Will you help me shave my head?'"

Spencer barely realized what was happening when Ronon pulled out his fingers and lifted Spencer onto his cock. It was the most natural transition in the world. When Ronon's slippery fingers fondled Spencer's balls it felt as if every part of his body rolled with pleasure. Then Ronon rocked into him slowly and continued his story.

"Zoonem and Platop had known each other but not been particularly close friends before that day. But together, they shaved Daran's head. Then Zoonem asked, 'Do you feel more yourself now?'"

"Le replied, 'Yes, but I wish every inch of me could feel as new as my shaved head.' So Zoonem went and bought the softest, most richly colored meditation robe she could find. Platop dug out some rollin, a rosy dye that lasts on skin for several days, and he painted every inch of skin not covered by the new robe. That night, the three of them watched the sunset together."

Ronon's lubed fingers slid back and forth, teasingly, across Spencer's perineum. His other hand drifted across Spencer's leg and chest. Ronon spoke, rocked, and petted until Spencer didn't know what was holding him together or how he was still processing the story.

"By the next year, the three had decided to form a family together. They called their birth families to the capital for a traditional ceremony at which they unveiled a piece of art Daran and Platop had created together. Zoonem and Daran took turns reading aloud the family charter they had co-authored. Then they served a special cake that told everyone Zoonem was with child, a child that by the family charter would be parented by all three of them. The various extended family members became well acquainted as they discussed plans for welcoming the baby and furnishing a house for the new family."

It took Spencer longer than it should have to realize the story had ended. He'd heard every word, even if he'd floated through them, held someplace beyond arousal and the need for orgasm. Whatever Ronon could sense through their bond, Spencer wanted him to know, but the words that came out of his mouth surprised even him. "Are you turned on by some fantasy of getting me pregnant? There's a name for that on Earth, maiesiophilia, and it's fine with me, what we'd call YKINMKBYKIOK which means 'Your Kink Is Not My Kink But Your Kink Is Okay.' Unless we find some Ancient tech that makes it a real possibility, in which case we'd need to talk."

"Huh. Don't think I have maiesiophilia, but I'm kind of turned on by you rattling off that acronym while you're so worked up. And I might be turned on by the idea of building a family with you. If this works out, maybe we can all write a family charter together."

"Sounds good. I know it's not like me to say this, but can we be done talking now?"

"I'm going to shift you to hands and knees, okay?"

"Please." The change in position was almost too much for Spencer. Ronon knew how to nail his prostate every time in this position. Each thrust was still deep and a little too slow, but Spencer had no complaints. He was swimming in endorphins as if he'd already come. Their bond was open wide and singing with the mental equivalent of how Ronon was overwhelming him physically. Spencer shook all over and let his face mash into the mattress. Then they were both coming hard. Spencer didn't know where his mind or body began or ended, but he felt amazing through and through.

His last conscious action when he felt Ronon washing them both up was to pull Ronon down and flop an arm and leg over him. They were both going to sleep.

#

_A rattling red ring fell from the stroller. The adults chatting a couple feet away didn't notice, but Spencer saw the tiny clasping hand open and close on empty air. A face with fat cheeks and tufts of short black hair pushed up, looking to each side. The baby couldn't see the ground. Couldn't find the toy._

_Spencer came out from under the play structure. It was a mostly safe space where he could hide and watch people come and go._

_He picked up the bumpy red plastic ring and held it out to the baby dressed in soft orange fleece. When the baby fixed dark liquid eyes on Spencer instead, he gave the ring a little shake. It rattled. The baby flailed a couple times before capturing the ring. With a bubbly gurgle, the baby waved the ring side to side. A big open-mouthed smile that made Spencer smile in return._

_"Looks like someone made a friend," the nearest adult, probably the mom, said with raised eyebrows._

_"It likes me!" Spencer said, surprised by how good he felt._

_"He," the mom said._

_"It's rude to call a person it," another of the chatting grown-ups scolded. The harsh tone cut through Spencer's good feelings._

_When a third person, an older child, said, "Didn't your parents teach you any manners?" Spencer ran away._

#

Spencer woke calmly from his dream. It wasn't so bad, but Spencer sometimes wondered what it would be like to not remember so much of his past so well. He remembered being beat up for accidentally calling a boy with long hair "she." He remembered a kid at math camp who asked them all to use the pronouns ve, vis, and ver and then lent Spencer the book _Diaspora_.

Beside him, Ronon was still asleep. It rarely happened that Spencer woke first and had the chance to see his bond mate asleep. For all the times Spencer had read about people looking younger or softer while asleep, Ronon didn't look that way to Spencer. He looked calm and relaxed, but Spencer had seen that many times. He hoped to see it many more. The Adam's apple in Ronon throat was more noticeable when he was lying down, but most people's were. His dreads spread out around his face like branches on a tree, and he was beautiful. Everything about Ronon was beautiful to Spencer, inside and out. Whether that came from the bond or from being in love, Spencer wanted to memorize every instant, in case it didn't last.

"Come here," Ronon mumbled, pulling Spencer half on top of him.

"I didn't want to wake you." Nestling into Ronon's neck, Spencer couldn't help but kiss the warm skin. A couple times.

"Jumper leaves soon."

"I know."

Together they twisted until feet fell to the floor. As they moved toward the shower Spencer said, "Tell me what Satedans thought about each of their three genders."

Under the spray of water and each other's soapy hands, Ronon said, "It wasn't spelled out. I felt certain expectations to fight or stand my ground once I grew bigger than almost everyone. But Satedans didn't have a bias against women fighting the way Earthlings seem to. More women took care of kids, but that was partly due to getting pregnant and nursing babies. There was a lot more pressure to build the population than Earth people are used to. "

Ronon washed fast when they weren't flirting. He helped Spencer rinse his hair at the end, then grabbed them both towels.

"Those who were 'le' rarely bore children, or not right away. They were seen as more self-aware, like they were able to define themselves independent of whatever genders were assigned at birth."

When Ronon didn't say more and they'd both hung up their towels, Spencer asked, "Other than birthing and maybe raising kids, did gender affect job expectations?"

"Naw, maybe with kids they joked that boys couldn't pay attention as long. There were jokes about boys writing poems and girls writing novels, but I don't think anyone believed that by academy age. It seemed to me there were more judges and historical leaders with le pronouns than in general, but that might be a bias because as kids we were all he or she, even if some kids started as one and realized they were the other."

There was a knock at the door while Ronon was still putting knives in his hair. Spencer opened it and was surprised to find Juarez with a breakfast tray.

"Hope I'm not interrupting, but I wanted to speak with you both privately before we left. So I brought breakfast." Juarez held up the very full tray.

At a nod from Ronon, Spencer said, "Come in."

"Thanks." Juarez carried the tray to the desk, the only piece of furniture that could serve as a table. He stopped short when he spotted Ronon transferring knives from drawer to hair. "Now that's not intimidating at all."

"Trust. Let you see where they are."

Juarez raised both eyebrows and tilted his head. "Thanks."

"Here, take the chair," Spencer said, pulling the only chair out from the desk. Then he brought plates for himself and Ronon over to the barely made bed. He hoped the room didn't smell too much like sex, but Atlantis had fairly good air filtration. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I know you two are open about your relationship. And the way you schooled some Marines who took advantage of an Athosian scientist is legendary. You pushed the conversation on sexuality, consent and queer sensibilities years past anything I've seen on Earth, at least with the military. But I wanted to make sure you realized Two, Lokusay, or whoever, might need a little protection or education before you throw them into the mix here."

"What are you saying exactly?" Ronon's tone was challenging, like someone was threatening his child already, but Spencer didn't read Juarez as part of the problem. Still, what he'd learned on the spirit plane suggested Juarez wasn't being completely honest.

"Hey, I want to bring them here. I would happily re-educate anyone who gives them a hard time." From his clenched fists, it was clear re-educate could mean more than the usually calm medic using his words. "The procedures Beckett and I found in the Ancient systems last night were clearly developed for sex reassignment surgery. And I'd like to host one of the community education forums or whatever in case others here want to know about those options."

"Go on," Spencer said, the way he'd encourage a willing but nervous witness on Earth.

"Without divulging medical information, I'll tell you I don't personally know anyone here who uses alternate pronouns or is openly trans or obviously gender non-conforming. Maybe among the scientists it's less clear, but—Look, I'm ace, asexual. I've never had any issues around being male or feeling comfortable with my masculinity, but I had friends on Earth who spoke wistfully about spivak pronouns or singular they. When I was last home, in 2012, there were communities forming on line and word preferences changed completely in the year I'd been gone. I don't think most people here have even heard of the non-binary movement, and at the very least they'd need some education."

"Has anyone caused you trouble for being ace?" Spencer asked.

"Most people don't know." Juarez met Spencer's eyes for only a moment and then looked back at his own plate of untouched food. He took a bite of scrambled eggs. "On Earth, I was out with friends but not at work. Here, people just assumed I was shy or old-fashioned, that I had a girl at home I was staying absolutely true to. I didn't lie, but keeping quiet was basically a lie. I feel kind of guilty about passing, especially because I know I could defend myself as well as anyone if it came to a fight. But when I came out to a few close friends, it was almost impossible to make them understand. People think I don't know better, just need the right person, must have been abused, am hiding that I'm really gay, or they assume they can ask me really invasive personal questions. I've known good people who were unable to believe my lived experience, and it really gets old after a while. Can you imagine what they might say to a Pegasus native who was basically cut up to be some kind of eunuch sex slave?"

Ronon growled, but Spencer knew he wasn't mad at Juarez.

"I talked through the medical options with Dr. Beckett, but he's bound by even more confidentiality issues than I am. I don't want to cross any lines, personal or professional with him, so he suggested I talk to you. I'm ready to explain anything Two wants to know. But the prognosis is better if we operate in the next couple days. If you're thinking they might stay here, they need to be informed of possible safety or privacy issues. Maybe we should present options about what to disclose or how to educate people here as part of explaining their options."

"That's a good idea. I wish we had longer to discuss it." Spencer didn't feel qualified to speak on gender issues the way he had on sexuality, but even Juarez didn't know anyone on Atlantis from inside the non-binary movement. Lokusay had clearly discussed gender enough with Two to accept his male pronouns and identity. Nen knew more about gender issues of nen own and nen culture then anyone they could bring from Atlantis ever could. "Thanks for your openness with us. We won't say anything about you being ace, but do you want to tell us if anyone else on the team knows?"

"I told Beckett. Sheppard might suspect, but he's my commanding officer. I wouldn't know how to broach the subject, unless a situation developed. Then I wouldn't hesitate to tell him." Juarez pushed the rest of his eggs together, but before taking a bite, he said, "I'd rather be out in general. But I'm not ready yet."

"Good to know." Spencer wondered how Sheppard would react if the situation arose, given how secretive he'd been about his bond to Atlantis. He certainly kept his own asexuality or maybe gray-sexuality very private. But he'd opened up a little bit with the team. If attitudes on Atlantis needed adjusting or someone under his command needed support, Sheppard could be pretty courageous, or even overtly self-sacrificing, for the greater good.

"Let's go," Ronon said. He handed Spencer his bag and took the tray of dirty dishes. Juarez finished the last of his breakfast as they walked.

#

When they came through the Gate on Shan Mal, Sheppard parked the Jumper to the left, in the spot they'd been using. Spencer was a little surprised to see Paranok, the Head of Security, standing with the regular guard on duty. It was early morning local time. From past experience, Shan Mal didn't see many visitors through their Gate this early.

Teyla and McKay gathered their packs as Sheppard lowered the back hatch.

"Good morning," Paranok called out, "the council has requested a report from your full team as soon as you returned."

Spencer sighed then rose from his seat so he could speak to Paranok face to face. "If they could accept an update from the two staying here for now, we hope to have a much better understanding in a couple of hours."

Standing his ground, feet apart, arms crossed, Paranok said, "You have all been summoned. You'll have to explain that once you get there."

While hiking up the hill to deal with bureaucrats hadn't been part of Spencer's plans, the delay shouldn't matter to further investigations with the hill people. Similar issues had arisen when he worked for the FBI, and Spencer knew they had to compromise sometimes to work with local power structures. "Understood. Everyone ready to update the council?"

Ronon's concern for Two bled across their bond, but there weren't any other strong emotions bombarding Spencer. Everyone gathered what they needed, fastened their tac vests, and followed Paranok up the path in the cool morning air.

It was only as they entered the council chambers that Spencer recoiled under an oily wave of duplicity. Ronon braced his shoulder, and Spencer made himself walk forward calmly. He wondered if the council members were naturally so conniving and manipulative that they would have felt that way on his previous visits if he'd been open to that part of his gift. Not knowing made his job harder, so he fell back on assessing each person's posture, stillness, and facial expression. They all sat in the usual order on the garish pillows that ran across the raised platform at the front of the council chambers. They wore the same colored robes, suggesting those might be brought out specifically for council functions. A couple looked tired, which could reflect the early hour. The only one who wouldn't meet Spencer's eyes was Shiriwan, which was strange as he'd previously been the most engaged with their team.

The central member in lime green spoke first, "Three days have passed. We expected answers or at least an update by now. What have you learned of the archer?"

Standing tall and forcing himself to make eye contact, Spencer said, "We have a couple of strong leads and had hoped to bring you some answers by this afternoon. As reported to Shiriwan and Paranok on the first day, we found a bow that could have been made locally. That suggested the shooter was a smaller person, probably a local or someone not well practiced in making such a weapon. We have been interviewing and collecting fingerprints from people here, the surrounding farms, and in the hills. We currently have a possible fingerprint match to follow up on and some evidence that might connect this shooting to a previous crime."

"As you're here at our bidding," the councilor in weighty purple and red robes said, "We demand a full accounting of every step of your investigation and each person under suspicion."

Feeling Ronon bristle at his side, Spencer focused on keeping his own voice level. "While we agreed to help and to present all evidence if the accused turned out to be one of your own, we were explicitly given the freedom to travel and question at our discretion. However much you may trust each other, it could undermine our investigation to share details or suspicions at this point." Spencer was generally better at playing to people's sympathies than their pride or distrust of each other, but everything he'd seen of the council suggested they were suspicious of each other and generally quite concerned for their own reputations. "I'm sure you would not want anyone's reputation besmirched without proof, for evidence to be intentionally hidden, or for anyone to take dangerous actions prematurely."

His last words sent such a spike of emotion through the entire council, that Spencer could barely sort out who was angry, distrustful, or worried. He looked to Shiriwan, whom they'd spent the most time with before. Staring directly at people triggered a gaze-detection system in the brain that was common to most social animals, so Spencer wasn't surprised that it worked on Shan Mal. When Shiriwan met Spencer's eyes, worry and guilt increased to unmistakable levels.

"What have you done?" Spencer asked.

"A young person seeking favor from the council came to us last night, reporting you'd found the archer, an outsider hidden among the hill people. Because your team left without telling us, the council sent a contingent of guards to capture the outsider for our own justice system to handle." Shiriwan ground out the last words with a hint of defiance.

Even if the council didn't fully trust them, Spencer was furious as the pieces fell into place in his mind. "Let me guess. You were stalling us on purpose." Spencer caught movement from the corner of his eyes and guessed at least Sheppard was already leaving for the Jumper. "The young person who came to you was probably Solanen. After spying on us yesterday, nen assumed the outsider we questioned privately must be guilty. Now you've sent a band of guards eager to avenge one of their own to collect an abuse victim who fled his own planet as a refugee." Before anyone on the council could interrupt, Spencer looked to those in the center and said, "Just for the record, we've already ruled him out as a suspect. If he or anyone with him is hurt due to your ill-considered actions, I will hold each of you and your justice system responsible. But first, I'm going to try to salvage this investigation and prevent any more needless violence."

He turned to leave, and the rest of the team, even McKay, formed a box around him with hands to weapons and ready to fight. He suspected Sheppard had communicated to the rest of them via hand gestures, which was as good as confirmed once they were out on the open path.

Teyla whispered via their radios, "We're all clear."

"I've almost reached the Jumper," Sheppard replied. "Pick you up at the clearing by the top of the path."

Sheppard must have run or possibly thrown himself down the hill to reach the Jumper that fast. Either he was sneakier than Spencer thought, or running alone down the hill so early hadn't aroused much local interest. They were just starting to hear some loud voices behind them as they reached the dewy clearing and Sheppard uncloaked the Jumper. The whole team was in and seated before anyone from the council room caught up to them.

It took mere minutes to fly to the hill settlement, although it had probably been several hours' hike for the guards. Spencer directed Sheppard to fly over Lokusay's hut.

He was not surprised to see Batavo, the community's Sentinel, fighting with knives in each hand directly in front of the door to Lokusay's hut. Dostovo was waving a surprisingly large knife. Nen appeared to be holding guards off from the ground, one leg already slashed and bleeding. Most surprising was Lokusay who seemed to be fighting two guards at once without weapons using some form of martial arts. The guards were both larger than nen and held knives, but did not seem familiar with the fighting style. Solonen was off to one side of the action, waving nen arms frantically as nen spoke to a group of locals who seemed to be in a standoff with another six guards.

Sheppard landed the Jumper right between Lokusay's fight and the extra group of guards. "Try not to kill anyone," Sheppard said as he jumped from his seat. "McKay, mind the Jumper. Juarez, medical triage as soon as it's safe."

Ronon and Sheppard were out before the rear ramp hit the ground. Ronon blocked a strike and threw one guard to the ground before Sheppard could say, "We don't want to fight you, but we'll take anyone down that we have to." Sheppard blocked and kicked.

Teyla leapt into the fight calling out to the guards, "We have come from speaking with your council. The accusations were wrong. The person you seek is innocent."

"Prove it." The guard currently fighting Batavo grunted.

Teyla brandished her bantos rods and then kicked an attacker's legs out from under him before saying, "Councilor Shiriwan told us where you were when we presented evidence to the full council. We will deliver our proof to them."

Spencer made his way to where Solanen was still arguing. "Stop. You misunderstood something, and you're causing harm."

"I saw you go in there. Later, I listened through the walls. Lokusay was speaking as if to an outsider, saying, 'You've done nothing wrong.'"

"Did you hear a confession, even another voice?" Spencer asked, mostly for the benefit of the crowd.

"I heard something like crying," Solanen said. "It overlapped the words, as if from another person."

The cheesemaker, Tantamok, who'd been teaching the young people when Spencer arrived, rested a hand on Solanen's shoulder then and began what was clearly going to be a gentle but lengthy lecture about jumping to conclusions, invading others' privacy, and acting rashly.

By that point, Spencer's teammates had taken down the pack of guards who'd been confronting the crowd of locals. Batavo had nen opponent in a choke hold. Teyla had slipped around to help Lokusay with the last guard still fighting. He heard her say calmly between kicks and bantos rod strikes, "Greetings, I am Teyla Emmagen. I came with my friends to help you." Sheppard called out, "Zip tie their hands," as Ronon covered the downed guards with his blaster, presumably set to stun.

When Juarez crouched beside Dostovo, Batavo dropped the guard he'd half strangled and growled at the medic.

"I only want to help." Juarez held up already gloved hands. Far more calm than could be carried by his voice radiated outward. Whatever the medic's gift might be called, he clearly controlled and could project his emotions and empathy.

Dostovo set down the knife nen had been holding and said, "Please, Batavo, I trust Tito Juarez and want nen to help me." Batavo lowered nen knives to nen sides and breathed deeply, sniffing and tasting the air, still checking the entire area for threats.

Juarez said, "Thank you. Is anyone I can't see injured?" He was clearly asking about Two while trying not to give away the outsider's existence. Already, he was scanning Dostovo's leg.

"No." Dostovo swirled nen hand in a calming figure eight at his Sentinel and the crowd of locals. "Batavo and I arrived before the group of guards could reach this hut. We were holding them off until others heard and gathered. Solanen tried to keep anyone from helping, saying the guards came to arrest a murderous outsider. Then Lokusay came out and fought with the will of the righteous. That was all that happened before your people arrived."

Spencer only detected a partial lie when Dostovo spoke of Lokusay's ability to fight. He worried that the secret part might be relevant to his investigation. But in the moment, he trusted his instincts about Dostovo and Lokusay, even if he couldn't fully trust his profiling abilities here.

Turning to where Lokusay was offering nen greetings to Teyla, Spencer said, "Please, let me take you inside to lie down until Juarez can check your injuries." Lokusay was radiating fear and shivering as nen glanced nervously toward the guards. "Teyla Emmagen is both a warrior and a diplomat. I believe we can trust her to handle whatever situation brought these guards to your door."

Lokusay's fear spiked. Then nen met Spencer's eyes and understood he wanted to take nen back to Two, away from everyone outside. "Yes," nen said, emoting trust and draping nen arms around Spencer as if suddenly exhausted.

At the door Spencer asked Juarez, "Would it help to bring Dostovo inside to clean and bandage that leg?"

Juarez and Dostovo both looked up at Batavo who was still a bit wild around the eyes.

"I'll keep watch here," the Sentinel forced out through a clenched jaw, as nen brushed a hand across Dostovo's shoulder.

Ronon came to stand beside him. "Me too." His hand brushed Spencer's as they all crowded close to the doorway.

Once inside with the door closed, Lokusay slipped halfway beneath the hanging that separated Two's bed from the main room. The room still bore the smoky scent of burning herbs from before. There was no way of knowing what gifts or heightened senses some of the guards might have, and Juarez spoke immediately. "I would like to check your injuries too, Lokusay. We had hoped to speak with you when we returned today, but my main concerns now are as a medic. I assure you, my people had nothing to do with those guards coming here. Someone else misled the council and guards with false conclusions." Juarez raised his scanner in nen direction from several feet away, but didn't appear to find reason for immediate follow up.

"Solanen. We realized when nen arrived with the guards and started speaking nonsense to discourage others from helping us," Dostovo said as Juarez positioned nen on the floor. "You can cut the pant leg off. I would in your place. And I thank you for your help in our defense and with medical care. Perhaps we can speak later as we did yesterday morning. That might be more comfortable for all."

Wondering if he could pull Juarez onto the spirit plane as well, Spencer tried to control both his tone and emotions for the benefit of any audience outside. "I would like that, if it works out. But I suspect the guards will want us to return with them to the council. Do you think we could have such a discussion in our spaceship?"

"Surely you don't need me with you for that." Dostovo smiled wide in contrast to nen offhand tone. The spirit leader ignored whatever pain nen was in and the disinfectant Juarez was squirting along nen now exposed leg. Juarez slid the former pant leg away, and replaced it with a clean blue pad. The gash ran from Dostovo's knee to halfway up nen thigh, but was only bleeding slowly. As Juarez applied what might be antiseptic or a numbing agent, Dostovo continued, "You know how to reach me if my input is needed. Lokusay, how do you feel about flying in a spaceship to meet with the council? I would trust Spencer Reid to present your case, but any choices must be your own."

Juarez held up suturing materials and Dostovo nodded, still calm and quiet.

Lokusay stood to detach one end of the hanging room divider, and Spencer went to help with the other side as Dostovo had the day before. There were red marks and early signs of bruising along nen exposed limbs. The teen had stripped down or changed into what looked like a long, loose tank top. When nen used a pair of hand gestures Spencer did not know, something like a "hang loose" sign followed by rapidly waving fingers, Dostovo replied, "You will always be welcome back here, whether you accept an apprenticeship or choose to travel elsewhere. And you know how to reach me as well, with a little patience."

Two had pushed up from the bed into more of a sitting position than he'd managed before. Spencer wondered if the little bit of care Juarez had been able to give the day before had already made a difference. When Two looked nervously around the mostly silent room, Spencer said, "Of course, we would take whoever wants to go with us and explain anything you want to know before you need to face the council or make any decisions. Our agreement with the council allows us to deal with any outsiders involved, but for someone in their network of obligations, we must present evidence and agree on any course of action. We can't guarantee a particular outcome, but we have the right to stay and monitor until an agreement is reached, which we definitely will."

After staring at Two for a long moment, Lokusay said, "I trust you more than I trust the council. If I must go to them, I would choose to go with you."

"Let me tell Ronon so he can pass on your intentions and ours to Teyla. I'm sure she can convince the guards to head out soon, since it will take them longer to walk back than it will take us to fly."

A rhythmic tap on the door made Spencer chuckle. "Message received, I guess."

"And I'm done with these stiches." Juarez tidied up around the neatly stitched leg wound. "Let me apply some antibiotic sealant, and this should be mostly healed in a few days."

"Are you open to trade for that sealant or the disinfectant you used earlier?" Dosotovo asked.

"Perhaps in the future, especially if we end up with a local apprentice. For now, I'll leave you what's in these two containers." Juarez included a few pairs of latex gloves in a large ziplock bag as he went over instructions for each of the sample size containers he was leaving. Then he pulled out another container. "I also brought these for some of the people I saw yesterday. If I can't be here to hand them out, the glasses can probably be sorted by having each person I promised them to try different pairs. This ointment is for Nastavet's scalp, to be applied twice a day. These pills are for Malsiphap to take no more than once a day when nen has trouble breathing."

"I thank you on their behalf, but hope they will see you again to speak for themselves."

Spencer blurted out, "We had gifts. With what might happen at council, I'd better get those now."

"I'll stay to check Lokusay," Juarez said, which a meaningful look toward Two as well.

Still acting as if the morning's events were neither painful nor alarming, Dostovo said, "I'm sure Batavo will keep close as well, so long as I'm resting here."

#

By the time Spencer came out, Teyla had already joined the guards for their long hike back to the city. Solanen had gone with them, and most everyone else had shifted to the communal cooking areas at the other end of the settlement. When Spencer entered the Jumper to retrieve the gifts Teyla had helped him acquire, McKay insisted on coming along to see Kapotesh's tree house and delivery systems. "Since it's probably the least boring thing up here." Spencer winced knowing Batavo must have heard that.

He emerged from the Jumper to find the Sentinel stone faced and Ronon with his arms crossed while Sheppard held up a power bar and said to Ronon, "I'll toss you for who goes with them."

With a scowl Ronon said, "Just go," as he grabbed the power bar out of the air.

Not sure if Ronon minded or specifically wanted to stay, Spencer tugged at their bond gently to check. Ronon looked his way and shrugged. It didn't give Spencer much confidence in his abilities as a bond mate or Spirit Leader. He still couldn't read Ronon's emotions or intentions well, but he was willing to trust his bond mate would tell him if he needed to know more. Ronon waved the power bar and then offered half to Batavo as Spencer led McKay through introductions.

"Is it okay with you if I take them along to deliver some food?" Spencer asked

Batavo sniffed and scowled at McKay and then back toward the Jumper. "Go," was all he said.

"Thank you." Spencer didn't know the correct etiquette, but he had to try. "I've learned a lot here and appreciate all you and your community have done to help and teach us."

"Thank you as well. Now go."

Sensing how hard Batavo was working to just stay civil, Spencer left it at that. He quickly led McKay and Sheppard up and across Fast Creek.

"I figure we'll visit Kapotesh first, since we don't know how long we'll have with everyone else." Spencer easily remembered where to find the hermit's tree and carefully loaded the box at the end of the pulley. Teyla had obtained for him a set of four Athosian spices and some dried spiced jerky that wouldn't take up too much room in the treehouse and could be stored indefinitely. Spencer had added a miniature Rubik's Cube he'd had on a keychain. The puzzle should be self-explanatory and not count as significant cultural contamination given the robotic puppets and other devices the carver made.

There was a startled, "Ick, I didn't need to know that," from where McKay had wandered a few trees away. He stomped back and announced, "I was hoping for robots and all I found was a compost pile and a primitive sewage system."

"Everyone eats and…" Sheppard cut himself off. "This may not count as a diplomatic discussion to have here."

McKay dug in his pockets and pulled out two small rocks. "Fine. It's a better treehouse than anyone else I've met has." He spoke upward, toward the treehouse in question. "I'm leaving you a couple rocks, since I'm told you might know some science. Or at least engineering. Feel free to let me know if they mean anything to you." He added the rocks to the other gifts. "Can we go eat now?"

Still not sure of the etiquette, Spencer said, "We're leaving here soon, and I don't know if we'll be back. Thank you for the carving you sent to me and Ronon, and well, even if you didn't exactly answer my question about the archer, or if you acted in ways I didn't expect, it was nice learning about you and seeing your puppets."

With that, Spencer led Sheppard and McKay back into town, dropping off a beribboned box of Athosian tea on Dostovo's doorstep and bringing the rest as well as a tray of fancy dried fruit to share at the community breakfast.

Mantoleve shouted as they approached, "I told you not to trust them!" The people seated with the elder chided nen softly and called out, "The rest of us thank you for bringing your medic to visit," and "We know the trouble this morning wasn't your fault."

Lalowen ran up and hugged Spencer while McKay sputtered, "Why isn't she wearing clothes? Everyone else is wearing clothes to breakfast."

At that, Lalowen turned to the scientist and said, "Greetings. I am Lalowen. I'll wear shoes and useful clothes when I become a stone artist."

When McKay looked like he might argue, Sheppard thumped him on the arm. McKay said, "Greetings. I'm Rodney McKay, a genius who uses many tools and requires many pockets." He patted his tac vest and other pockets proprietarily.

"Do you have chocolate?" Lalowen asked pointedly, staring at the pocket positioned where Spencer had kept his chocolate bars before giving them both away.

As they began to barter or bicker, Spencer left Sheppard to chaperon.

Making his way around the community cooking area, Spencer said his thanks and goodbyes to various people he had met and learned from. A few offered him reports on what Solanen had told them that morning, but none of it was new or useful by that point. Spencer kept his eyes open as a profiler and tried to steer his gift to notice any deceptions or unusual emotions, but the hill people seemed as honest and kind as any he'd ever met. Even Mantoleve broadcast only nen usual paranoia and mental turmoil.

Then McKay called out, "It's chasing me!" The scientist pointed at one of Kapotesh's seemingly autonomous wooden puppets as he backed away slowly and then dodged to the left. The puppet followed him. McKay walked quickly to the right. The puppet followed. "What will it do if I stop?"

"Probably bite you or pee on your shoe," Sheppard teased.

"Give you a present!" a young child from the Miller's household called out.

McKay pulled a scanner from an outer pocket on his pack, and Spencer hoped the carver wouldn't object to whatever photographs or readings McKay might take. Finally, the scientist stood still and the robot stopped a couple feet in front of him. McKay knelt down, scanning from all angles before lifting the lid off the puppet. He barely scanned the insides before he picked up two hoops joined by an oversized wooden clasp. McKay tried to pull the hopes apart. He turned them in his hands. Then he turned them over and studied some pattern carved on the bottom. He moved one hand on an inset knob and the rings pushed away from each other enough to poke a finger in between and then pull them the rest of the way open like a clam shell. Even from several yards away, Spencer saw the two small rocks mounted inside. They were at the edges of each circle farthest from the clasp.

"Does anyone else here know about magnets?" McKay asked.

"No, but I'd like to," Doranten said. Many others from the young people's camp and other families agreed.

"One sec," McKay peaked in a few pockets until he found a coiled cable with two carabiners. He placed the set carefully inside the puppet. Pasomak casually added a couple of breakfast rolls while McKay studied the lid with the solar panels for just a moment before aligning it on top. As the crab-shaped creature walked away with motions not at all like a crab, McKay pulled out a magnetized screw and screwdriver and said, "Like poles repel, unlike poles attract."

Spencer was amused to see Lalowen gazing at McKay's many pockets while everyone else studied the magnets. He wondered what clothes nen would make when the time came.

Juarez called over the radio for them to leave well before McKay had answered all the questions from his curious audience.

#


	5. 5

Back in the Jumper, Sheppard naturally took the pilot seat and McKay landed beside him saying, "We need a full planet scan for rare Earth magnets and neodymium. The ones by the Gate were put there to raise and lower the Gate in a hurry. I'm not sure if they naturally occurred with nickel or if the alloy was introduced to protect from rust and raise the Curie temperature. The carver sent me a model." He demonstrated his prize but wouldn't let Sheppard touch it.

For his part, Sheppard looked fondly amused.

Spencer suggested, "If you want to take the scenic route back, I'd appreciate staying cloaked and off the ground while we sort out some details on the spirit plane. I suspect the council will make us wait until their guards return anyway."

With a proprietary pat to the Jumper console, Sheppard said, "I don't want to know. I'll play some appropriately loud music back there if we haven't heard from you by the time we need to land." The doors between the front and back of the Jumper slid shut.

Two was lying across one of the bench seats with his head in Lokusay's lap. "You two probably know better than I do how to meet on the spirit plane. Can either of you drag other people there?"

"Only ourselves. We'll end up where we were before and try to call to you," Lokusay said

"Okay." Spencer hoped he could make this work. "I'm going to try to bring Ronon and Juarez. I think Dostovo will try to join us at some point, too. Maybe you can let the lotuks know to keep an eye out if that helps?" When Lokusay just stared at him, he said, "Do you want to lie down or anything?"

"We'll be fine," nen said.

Spencer smiled and tried to project confidence. He turned to Juarez, "I don't suppose you've been to the spirit plane or know what it is?"

"I may have heard it mentioned in the last couple days. You're saying it's a real enough place we can meet and speak privately there?"

"And Two can speak there," Spencer said. "So can at least one lotuk I've met. A lotuk looks a bit like a pterosaur, just so you know. If I can get us all there, I think it's the safest place to talk without being overheard."

"For the record, I had no idea what Dr. Beckett meant when he said he was trusting me with all this," Juarez said, "but you can trust me."

"I'm never quite sure how much Beckett knows." Spencer thought to himself of all the times Beckett had known more than expected. It wouldn't surprise Spencer if the doctor had known about the spirit plane as well. "If we're going to try this, I think it's best if you and Ronon both lie on the floor beside me, touching my arms or hands. If you've practiced any kind of meditation, that might help, because I've never pulled anyone along like this before."

To his surprise, both men immediately lay down on their backs on opposite sides of the Jumper floor and closed their eyes. Ronon did have his outer hand firmly resting on his blaster. Given the width of the floor, Spencer would automatically be touching both of them by virtue of lying down on his back in the middle.

Taking his place, pressed between each of their sides, Spencer felt their meditative states surround him, almost as if they were pulling him in. He concentrated on the blue-green scenery he'd awoken to before.

This time, when he felt the scratchy grass beneath his back, Spencer concentrated on his body feeling human and fully clothed. He opened his eyes and found Ronon and Juarez right beside him, dressed even. "Guess that worked."

Juarez opened his eyes and said, "Awesome," as a large jack rabbit bounded up to him. He held out his hand, and the rabbit brushed against it before exploring all around Juarez.

Ronon sniffed, shook his head, and said, "Not exactly." His navone appeared with a similar sniff and head shake, which made Spencer swallow a laugh at the similarity even before Rikki-Tikki-Tavi scrambled up to ride on his shoulders and tickle his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked Ronon.

"Everything's off. A bit fuzzy. Doesn't smell right."

Looking around with new eyes, Spencer could imagine how the blue shift and whatever made spirit animals recognizably different might be disconcerting to someone with enhanced senses. His bond mate had relied on his senses to survive for years, and now Spencer had dragged him to a place that changed the rules. "How about me? Do I look and smell right?"

When Spencer leaned in close, Ronon dropped his head to the crook of Spencer's neck and pulled him nearer. "Yeah," was all the Tracker said before releasing him.

Standing up, Spencer said, "Stay close then. Do whatever you need to ground your senses. Let me know if you want to leave early." Ronon climbed to his feet and bumped against Spencer playfully. Juarez seemed to be taking it all in stride. "They were that way last time." Looking up at the mostly dark sky Spencer said, "There, where the lotuks are circling."

"I'm thinking I should save my questions about all of this until later," Juarez said as his rabbit bounced along beside him. Ronon's spirit animal had already wandered further afield, although the way the Tracker's eyes flicked sideways occasionally suggested Ronon and the navone were keeping tabs on each other. Spencer's ferret was surprisingly calm, happy to nap against his neck.

"That might be best," Spencer said. "First because, I barely understand spirit animals, or as they call them here, spirit guides. Second, I'm not sure how long it will take to cover everything about the investigation, adoption, surgeries, gender issues, and culture that we're going to need in order to make good decisions all around."

At that, Juarez grabbed for the tablet in his tac vest. "Does this still work here? Oh, good. Dr. Beckett and I set up a bunch of pictures and diagrams about the medical options."

Spencer wondered if the tablet worked because Juarez willed it so. Checking his own pockets, Spencer found the copy of the adoption paperwork he'd brought as well as the tablet with all the photos, notes, and fingerprints from the investigation. He bumped up against Ronon, "You okay with this?"

"You said Two could talk here?"

"Yeah, people can also look different if they want. Last time he looked a little older. That might be intentional or just be how he sees or imagines himself."

Ronon's eyes scanned up and down Spencer's body appreciatively. "You look just like yourself."

"So do you." Spencer walked closer until their arms entangled. "I don't know if that shows we know ourselves well or that we come from a place with lots of mirrors and photographs. Last time I started out as a ferret and changed into a dragon, so we might come back and experiment sometime."

Ronon gave his hand a quick squeeze, but by that time they could see the people they'd come to meet, beneath several circling lotuks. It was nice to see Dostovo with the teens, sitting cross legged despite what had happened to his leg in the real world. His spirit animal greeted Ronon's at the edge of the clearing. "Guess we all made it," Spencer said.

Juarez glanced at Dostovo's leg and asked, "How are you doing?"

"It's good for me to be here and let my body rest. Thank you," Dostovo sounded unperturbed despite everything.

Lokusay looked and felt worried. "Please join us. What did you want to talk about?"

Two smiled, showing the front teeth he didn't have in real life, and definitely looking a bit larger and healthier. Spencer wasn't picking up any specific emotions from him, but his body language was relaxed. On the spirit plane, he looked comfortable in his body, even if it might represent a bit of wish fulfillment. He was holding Lokusay's hand.

Spencer and the others sat to form a circle. One of the lotuks landed and came to lean against Lokusay's back, and Spencer wondered if nen was Three, as before. It was harder to tell on the spirit plane, but Spencer was almost certain the lotuks circling above were spirit animals, while this one was an embodied person. "You're probably expecting us to ask some hard questions, and there will be a couple we can't avoid. But I want to start by acknowledging we're all from different cultures. I currently live with people who grew up speaking different languages, and until a couple days ago, I was biased by my own language and upbringing to think of pretty much everyone as he or she. My mind has already adapted to almost always thinking of the hill people as nen, so I know we can learn from each other and build understanding, but it will take some effort."

Spencer glanced at Ronon who spoke as if they'd practiced. "I grew up on a different world, with a different culture than Spencer. We had a third pronoun, le, but nothing like nen. We knew about gifts. Spencer's people mostly don't so far. He's learning that fast, too." Ronon rubbed a hand up and down Spencer's back once. "My people, the Satedans, described gifts differently than what we've heard on Shan Mal. We have many stories about bond mates. I'm the only Satedan where we live, but Spencer is my bond mate. With him, I think I could offer one or more of you a place as family, or as an apprentice if you prefer to see it that way, but he's right about it taking effort, from all involved."

Juarez added, "I'm mostly here to explain the medical options. I would also be happy to help one or more of you train as a medic of healer. I grew up bilingual and bicultural, with one language and culture overlapping with Spencer. I know less about gifts and bonds. I do know people who see themselves as neither he or she and use alternative pronouns, but I'm not sure you'd find many like that in our current settlement. The place where we live was left by another culture, and there are secrets you would be asked to keep if you joined us. There is an amazing amount to be learned there as well, if you're up for dealing with the cultural and other issues. I could help with or explain more about any of this, if you want."

"I knew little of other cultures, pronouns, and all of this until I found my bond mates. Those parts don't worry me, although perhaps they should. But what do you want from us?" Lokusay asked.

"Mostly, we want the same thing we wanted yesterday, to help you if we can and if you want our help," Spencer said. "But to do that, I'll have to ask you to be truthful with me on a couple of points. I know there are secrets about gifts and bond mates that you have good reason to keep private. I'll respect that as much as possible. But where we come from, my job is to mediate disputes and solve crimes." Spencer knew he had to be honest and show his willingness to learn and listen now more than ever. He held his hands open on his knees and met Lokusay's eyes with his own. "The council on Shan Mal asked me and my team to find an archer who shot a guard by the Ring of the Ancestors. They believed it was an outsider, maybe someone from the previous battle we fought here. I have reason to believe it was someone local, and now I think that person may have had good reason to shoot a guard by the Ring. But I need to know what really happened and why. Can you tell me that much?"

Lokusay sighed but didn't look away. Nen didn't answer either.

In the end, it was the lotuk, the voice recognizable as Three, who said, "I shot the guard. I made the arrows and the bow. That same guard killed my bond mate, Pornal, who came to help Lokusay when nen mother was dying. In my culture, that guard owes me a life debt, and I did nothing wrong even if the shots were fatal, which I did not intend them to be. I needed to see Two safely to Lokusay. They needed each other."

There was very little emotion in Three's voice, nothing Spencer could detect with his gifts, and he had no idea how to read body language on a lotuk that represented a human from a culture he'd never seen. "Did you somehow use Lokusay's body to do all that?"

Lokusay started shivering as nen had after that morning's fight. Two wrapped his arms around nen. Three more lotuks, all spirit animals as far as Spencer could tell, swooped down and crowded around Lokusay. Five still circled above. Ronon's raccoon and Juarez's rabbit shifted toward that side of the circle, watchful, but not closing in.

Three stretched nen neck, raising nen head higher than Lokusay's and the others. "Yes, but nen was not personally capable of any of it, so the actions were clearly mine."

"Were you the one fighting two guards at once this morning as well?" Spencer asked.

"Yes." Three looked at Lokusay, closed beak, no wrinkles or eyebrows to hint at emotion, but Spencer felt nen distress now. Whether Three didn't feel anything about hurting the guard or had been trained to suppress or hide such feelings, the empathy and worry nen felt for Lokusay was clear.

That was enough of a profile for Spencer to work with. "I don't suppose you could appear before the council to testify to any of this?"

"Not yet." Three's bird-like head bobbed and a clawed foot scratched the ground. "In less than the passing of a season on Shan Mal, I will be considered of age among my people. I would agree to testify on Shan Mal then if the Satedan would swear to keep it an honorable hearing."

Spencer filed away Three's knowledge of Satedans for later investigation. "Am I correct in supposing that none of you want the people of Shan Mal to know Three can do these things in Lokusay's body?"

"Yes." "Yes." "Yes."

Spencer fiddled with the pocket that held his tablet. "I don't think it will work to make a video here. Anyway, I doubt a talking lotuk taking responsibility would convince the council. They would probably deny the reality of spirit guides and bond mates and the sorts of gifts you describe."

"Probably," Lokusay said. "But if me taking the blame is what it takes to send Two safely to your people for healing, I would choose to do that."

"No," Two said. He was wrapped around Lokusay in a way that made him look even larger and stronger than before. Spencer wondered if Two's presentation on the spirit plane might actually be shifting in response to events and perceived needs.

"That is not a condition of our help." Ronon radiated concern as he spoke. Spencer watched to make sure he didn't grow any larger, but he seemed fully himself. He seemed very much a protector who wanted to adopt Two and do what he could for all three teenagers. "If Lokusay helped willingly…"

With only a short pause, nen said, "I did."

"Then there may have to be some consequences." Ronon fisted his hands, then seemed to consciously relax both his fingers and his posture. "But if I adopt even one of you, I will accept the rest of you as family. Even if we hadn't negotiated to have a say in punishments before, I would insist as family, if you want me in that role."

Dostovo, who'd been a silent observer until this point, said, "Our community may hold a different sort of power and caring, but we'll fight for you even if you don't accept Ronon's offer."

"Nen could still argue the shooting was justified by the guard killing Pornal," Three said, breaking the moment.

Normally, Spencer would have tried to give Lokusay as much agency as possible in nen own defense, or barring that, have a knowledgeable local authority like Dostovo as nen advocate. But they both had secrets to keep, and were at greater risk before the council precisely because they were native to Shan Mal. Brain racing with possibilities, Spencer asked, "I'm sure it's hard to talk about, but can one of you tell me how Pornal was killed?"

"My spirit guide was flying above in this form," Three said in what Spencer was starting to recognize as a work voice, or maybe what the military would call a debriefing voice. It was hard to see nen as a teenager, like the others, but Spencer had learned from his first dealings in Pegasus that ages were culturally relative. "Pornal came through in her finest fur robes, hair done up with bits of glittery metal sticking out like a crown. She carried a basket of herbs, needles, and knives. I don't know what forms of healing her people practiced, but we'd all agreed to let her try. Pornal was so sure of herself that she told Lokusay to stay with her dying mother and not meet her at the Ring. Pornal had traveled alone before and believed Shan Mal sufficiently civilized. She expected to convince the guard of her right to pass with pretty words or possibly the bribe of a jeweled metal hairpin."

Tears ran freely from Lokusay's eyes, and although the other two hid it, Spencer could feel their despair at the loss of a bond mate. Then anger flashed, from Three at least, as nen said, "The guard called her an assassin although her hands were empty and her posture non-threatening. He stabbed her with a knife thrust up beneath the ribs. If I'd in any way expected such assault, I could have taken over and countered that move. But it happened so fast. The guard dragged her away behind some bushes, using her precious fur robe to keep any mess off himself or the ground. She was so tiny, shorter that Lokusay and just as thin."

There was a pause, but Spencer held his questions. Three continued, "When another guard brought food soon after, they argued over the body. But they ended up burying Pornal right there behind the bushes, within sight of the Ring. It was done before anyone arrived through the Ring that day, before any other guards saw. A life taken, and no one held to account."

"Did anyone else see this in person or through spirit guides?" Spencer asked.

"We all felt Pornal die," Lokusay sobbed. "We saw the guard through her eyes in that moment of death, and it was the same one we shot to protect Two."

"I shot," Three said.

"My hands did it all. I lived it with you." Lokusay was shaking with anger now as Two and Three and the spirit lotuks did their best to comfort nen. Juarez crept forward beside his jack rabbit and offered a crinkly foil blanket, but none of the three seemed interested in that. As Juarez knelt beside them with the unwanted blanket, Spencer realized the medic was projecting calm again. It wasn't clear whether he meant to affect others or was used to calming himself that way.

Not knowing how much time they might have left, Spencer said, "Three, can you work with me a little more?"

"Yes," Three walked on spindly, backward bending legs to stand directly in front of Spencer.

"Do you have other arrows or a bow that you've made that are similar to what you crafted with Lokusay's hands?"

Three's bird-like head bobbed. "Yes, both a bow and arrows, with different wood, but mostly the same."

"Is there a way you could throw them through the Ring, possibly with a drawing of the guard killing Pornal, as a sort of absentee testimony and evidence?"

"I'm terrible at drawing." Three turned nen beak toward Ronon. "Satedan, can you read Saresh, the old trade script?"

"No, at best a few words, and I've seen no library arts on this planet." Ronon looked embarrassed.

Juarez's eyes opened comically wide, as if he'd just realized Ronon was not at all the barbarian most on Atlantis imagined. Or maybe he was revising his views on the entire galaxy. After only a moment, Juarez restored his poker face.

Three conceded, "I'll draw then. I might have to send someone else to dial the Ring and throw the bundle through. You want this very soon, I assume?"

"Can you get it ready and check back with Lokusay? And maybe you could draw where they buried Pornal as well?" Spencer knew he needed to check with Sheppard about all of this soon, but he thought he knew enough about the council to make his case stick.

Three wasn't convinced. "How will you stop whoever is on guard from destroying or hiding what I send?"

"One or more of us will be there waiting for it. I plan to invite the whole council," Spencer said.

"You can watch with us," Lokusay said.

Three flapped nen wings and disappeared.

"Can you hear Three and Two all the time? Even away from the spirit plane?" Spencer asked.

There was a long pause, and Spencer guessed from their stillness that a silent debate raged about how much to tell.

Lokusay finally said, "Lately it's been happening more, like we've improved with practice."

"That could help us, if you can use it without giving away your secret." Spencer said, "I'll need to leave the spirit plane to arrange things with Sheppard. We haven't yet had time to talk about medical and adoption choices, and anything else you might want to know about us and our people. Depending on how this plays out, you may be forced to make a decision soon."

"Juarez and Ronon should be able to stay and leave when they choose, now that you've brought them here," Dostovo said, from where nen had been quietly watching. "I'll help them if there's a problem."

"This can wait if you need us," Ronon said, but his spirit animal was still focused on Two.

"I'll let you know if there's a problem." Spencer leaned against Ronon's side and Rikki climbed to Ronon's shoulder. "I wish we had more time for discussion, but we may need to leave Shan Mal abruptly, even if the case goes well."

"You think we can convince the council?" He rested one hand on Spencer's back and one on Rikki's.

"I've worked with less."

#

"It's time," Sheppard said, about half an hour later.

Spencer rose from where he'd been sitting behind McKay and Sheppard. The doors between the front and back of the Jumper opened as Sheppard's music started soft but rapidly increased in volume. The song was, "Ring of Fire," which probably fit with Sheppard's odd sense of humor.

For Spencer, it was a relief to see everyone's eyes blink open at the agreed upon signal. He hadn't wanted to touch them or return to the spirit plane to try and bring them back if he didn't have to. "How is everything?"

Ronon's face broke into a big grin, "Two says I can adopt him. Says he'll tell us his first name once we're off this planet."

Two smiled, and Spencer felt real joy even if the mutilation shown was hard to see.

"And I will go with you if I can," Lokusay said, "although I'd like to keep my family name and have the right to return if possible. I would apprentice with Juarez. Now tell us what we must do."

#

First, Sheppard landed the Jumper in the clearing they'd fled from that morning. Ronon and Spencer were the only ones to step out. They both wore tac vests, and Ronon rested a hand on his blaster.

They walked together until a guard stopped them, "Please tell the council we are ready to report and share evidence, but we need them to meet us at the Ring."

"I have orders to bring you in for questioning." The guard looked awed by Ronon and made no move toward a weapon.

"We're here to answer questions, but we must do so by the Ring." Spencer stood tall and maintained eye contact. "Please tell the council members, any or all of them may attend, as they wish. We will present evidence to whoever comes to meet us by the Ring."

"Wait, you should tell them yourselves or wait for them to agree." The guard waved an arm in an exaggerated arc toward the council chambers.

"No time," Ronon said.

The rear shuttle ramp lowered, all occupants hidden in front. Spencer walked up the ramp with Ronon walking backwards to cover them.

#

Their second landing was to the side of the Ring, but not in their usual spot. Sheppard wanted a clear line of sight on both the Gate and where they'd deduced Pornal was buried. Back when McKay had been focused on scanning for rare Earth magnets, the odd patch behind the bushes with buried organic material hadn't seemed relevant.

"I thought it was a compost pile or a midden heap," McKay protested. "No one told me to look for a body, and it's not like they have toilets out here for the guards or visitors. Some things you learn not to ask about in Pegasus. Speaking of which, are you sure we can't ask about trading for rare Earth magnets? I'm sure that's what threw off our scans in the area behind the falls. We could trade for those even if the ones by the Gate are need for their semi-secret purpose." The physicist patted the Gate model with magnets that Kapotesh had given him.

"Really not the time for that. You can stay in here with Juarez and the kids," Sheppard said.

"No way, you stuck me with Jumper-duty this morning." McKay turned the knob to make the magnets repel each other and unlock the two attached rings. "Besides, this might be my last chance to study their Gate. I'll quietly scan to confirm how it can lower and raise using those underground magnets."

"Fine. Leave the model here, and don't wander off." Sheppard finished checking his own vest and instinctively checked McKay's. At McKay's offended look, Sheppard bumped their knees together. "If all goes well, we can come back to negotiate mining rights with either the council or whoever Kapotesh suggests."

Spencer wondered if Sheppard's logical math or strategic military background had suggested negotiating with Kapotesh. The carver's casual use of pulleys, mechanics, and neodymium magnets—that were used to hide their Ring and also appeared in scans "beyond the falls"—had Spencer thinking there might be a whole other level of cultural separatism and political manipulation behind events on Shan Mal. It seemed especially curious that Kapotesh had joined the hill people shortly before the Ring re-opened, demonstrating Spirit Leader and artistic gifts but with no reputation or sign of where nen came from. Spencer was more aware than ever of his outsider status and naivete as to local power structures and the true forces in play.

"If it goes badly, we'll have to wait for the current council to be replaced." Lokusay had told them that even if nen was banished, or they all were, nen would hold onto hope that the current council would be overthrown at some point.

"You okay here?" Ronon asked Lokusay and Two.

They both clasped Ronon's hands, not wanting to let him go. Spencer wished he could have stayed on the spirit plane for their final discussion, but he was also very happy for his bond mate. Seeing Two willingly touch someone other than Lokusay said a lot for the planned adoption. By the look on Lokusay's face, nen thought so too.

Spencer said to nen, "Please ask Three to send the items through the Ring as soon as possible."

As they saw the flapping deep blue and lime green robes of two councilors heading down the hill, four of them headed out of the Jumper. Ronon and Spencer walked together in front. Sheppard covered them from behind, also covering access to the sealed but still visible Jumper. McKay stood between them all and the Gate, an Ancient scanner in one hand and his tablet in the other.

A small parade was headed their way. Spencer spotted all six councilors interspersed with black clad guards, including Paranok, their Head of Security. Behind them was a curious crowd of students, academics, comforters, and others. Spencer spotted Dallorian, the one comforter who's offer to Ronon had shown sensitivity to his relationship with Spencer, arm in arm with another man, who Spencer guessed was the comforter's partner. They both smiled warmly toward Ronon, but stayed to the back of the crowd. A couple of students who Spencer recognized from his first stay on Shan Mal gestured toward him excitedly while whispering with friends, but mostly the crowd was quiet and solemn.

As the council formed a line that matched the order of their seating in the council chambers, guards took up positions on each side and behind. Two black clad guards positioned themselves in front, each on one knee with a weapon braced and ready to cover either the Gate or the Lanteans.

"Greetings, and thank you for coming to this place for our presentation of the evidence you requested." Spencer wasn't sure how rude he was being by speaking first, so he kept his words as polite as possible. He needed to make it clear to all involved that he had the answers and would control this situation. "Teyla, Solanen, and the guards you sent on a misguided errand last night should be joining us shortly." Spencer waved to his left where someone arriving from the hill settlement would most likely emerge. "It turns out the refugee they were sent to accuse was in no way directly involved with the shooting of the guard, Tarafan, that you asked us to investigate."

"Where is the outsider?" The councilor in red and purple demanded.

"Safely under guard in our spaceship," Spencer said. Just then, the Ring hissed and lit up in the way that signaled an incoming wormhole. The guards around the council raised throwing knives. "I believe this is the delivery we've gathered you all to see. I did not want there to be any question as to how or when it arrived." A bundle came through and moments later the connection closed. Spencer took a photo with his tablet. "Would one of you like to open this and display the contents, or should I? What matters is that we all see every part without tampering. It seems some facts and truths may have been hidden in the past, and we wouldn't want anything like that to happen today. Would we?"

"Have Ronon do it!" someone called from the back. It wasn't anyone Spencer recognized, but clearly Ronon had a strong fan base on Shan Mal. "We all trust Ronon!"

"He's a hero!" someone else shouted.

"That's why the council sent for him!" another added.

The councilors looked to each other. The one in green said, "Ronon, could you please show us what this is all about?"

Without comment, Ronon squatted behind the bundle, keeping it and his hands where everyone could see. He made quick work of untying the twine that bound a couple sheets of thick paper around a bow and arrows. The crowd gasped at the site of the foreign weapons, but Ronon left them on the ground as he stood and help the papers out so the first picture showed.

Three had been honest about not being an artist, but the picture was large and clear enough. It showed what was unmistakably a Shan Mal guard, in all black uniform, standing in front of their Gate. He was stabbing a small girl with an upward thrust, under her ribs. The guard was so much larger that he'd had to bend his knees to do it. Three might not be an artist, but nen understood fighting positions. While the details of the guard's face were minimal, they showed deep set eyes over a long nose shaded too bright of an orange for any real human's skin tone. The details on the girl were better. Her skin was a very naturalistic tan with hints of olive, suggesting what "skin tones" the artist had available. Brown hair was swept up on her head with a dozen metal hairpins crisscrossing to look like a crown. Her thick white and tan fur robes were stained with blood in front. The worst was her mouth, drawn open in a silent scream.

"What is the meaning of this?" The councilor in lime green demanded.

"While investigating the shooting of the guard, Tarafan, I came across claims of a life debt. While Tarafan has been unconscious since the attack, I thought I would have been told if your guards had killed anyone visiting your planet. Did any of you know about this?"

Knowing that Tarafan was related to Paranok had assured Spencer watched the Head of Security when the picture was unveiled. The way he'd paled would have told Spencer clearly enough that he had known, even if the man hadn't blasted out guilt that Spencer's gift could not deny. But Paranok held silent and still as Spencer spoke, so the analyst studied the reactions of other guards and the council members. No one else betrayed foreknowledge, although it was clear the guards weren't entirely surprised that there might be scandal surrounding Tarafan. Teyla had suggested as much about the guard's reputation.

A councilor with deep wrinkles in both skin and silver blue robes said, "We know nothing of this, and a childish drawing can hardly be called evidence."

Spencer nodded. "I believe it is more of an accusation, sent by someone who could not testify in person. Let's see what else we have."

Ronon shifted the page to show the second drawing.

Not wanting to miss any reactions, Spencer studied their audience as some glanced first to the bushes left of the Gate. Others looked to Paranok who tensed as if ready to run. "Could someone assure that the Head of Security remains with us while the council considers how to proceed?"

Ronon had his blaster in hand and pointed at Paranok while the guards to either side of him were still looking to each other and their leader for confirmation.

"See to it," said the councilor in deep blue, and the nearest guard sprang to action.

At his quick movement, Paranok started to run. The councilor's guard lunged, forcing both of them to the ground. They rolled as the councilor's guard landed a knee to Paranok's gut. Paranok gained the upper hand to land a punch to the other guard's face. Only then did the two nearest city guards jump in to pin their leader down. One produced a short length of rope and bound Paranok's hands. Another stepped forward then with a set of chains for binding both hands and feet. It wasn't hard to guess that the chains had been intended for Lokusay.

The take down was messy, but better than Ronon having to stun anyone. When Spencer finally had a chance to study the picture Ronon was still holding in one hand, he saw even the childish drawing captured the short black drape over the right shoulder that only decorated the Head of Security's uniform. The victim was a faceless bundle of furs and blood half buried behind the bush in this picture. But the two guards arguing above her both shared the same deep set eyes, flat eyebrows, and short black hair. The family resemblance might not have been enough to convict Tarafan on its own, but the bow and arrows delivered with the pictures made it pretty clear that an archer had sought vengeance.

This time, Spencer spoke softly, not caring if anyone beyond the council members, all still in front, could hear. "Is there someone who handles burials or might otherwise be equipped to confirm that there's a body buried behind that bush?"

The councilor in silver blue waved to the guard nearest her. "Fetch the undertaker, explain the situation and need for haste." The guard took off at a run, and that councilor turned to the others saying, "This is most distasteful. Should we arrange for seating and something to drink?"

#

By the time the guards returning from the hills hiked into the meadow by the Gate, the councilors were all seated on cushions, drinking something slightly fermented. Other watchers stood or sat in small groups observing the undertaker who was instructing two apprentices in how to exhume a body for inspection.

The guard in front, the leader of the returning group, swallowed hard when he spotted the Head of Security in chains. He looked around as if unsure of who to report to, and the councilor in lime green waved a sleeve in exaggerated invitation. Teyla, Solanen, and the rest of the tired, beaten down guards followed him to stand in front of the council.

"Our Head of Security has come under suspicion," the councilor in green said. "You, Fitazed, are now the acting Head of Security and must report to the council. Begin."

To his credit, Fitazed gave a detailed and accurate report of the incident that morning. When asked what had happened to the outsider they'd been sent to collect, he said, "We never saw him, as I explained, but were assured by the investigator you appointed that the outsider would be brought here to meet with you by the time we returned." After a pause the new Head of Security added, "If it please the council, Solanen would like to address you."

At another grand wave of the councilor's sleeve, Solanen stepped forward holding a wooden box with something waxy coating the top latch and all the seams. "If it please the council, while my intentions were good, it has been explained to me that my information was incomplete and my actions ill-considered. I apologize to you, the guards, and any others I may have inconvenienced or caused harm. I was also charged with delivering this sealed box directly to the council from Kapotesh."

"My guard will open it for us," the councilor in green said.

A guard came forward and first stared and then sniffed at the box before taking it from Solanen. It was only about a foot square. The guard held it to his ear, ran his fingers over all surfaces, and rolled a bit of wax between his fingers.

The guard, who Spencer assumed was either a Sentinel or had several enhanced senses, then produced a sharp knife and cleared the wax from the latch and all around the lid of the box. He tucked away the knife.

Carefully, as if expecting something of great value, the guard opened the box and lifted out a sculpture carved in smooth, dark wood. The item was detailed and polished, not something made on the spur of the moment. It was equally beautiful and horrible.

Carved into wood was a man recognizable at Tarafan dragging the body of a young girl on a fur cloak. Without color, there was no blood, just a tiny knife protruding beneath arms crossed over her chest.

Spencer wondered if the crossed arms were a sign of death here, perhaps dating back to the Ancients, as they matched iconography from Earth, as far back as the Egyptian pharaohs. However, the tradition might be blamed on the Lazarus reflex, where brain dead patients or those who lost respiration pulled their arms in to the same position. It was also a logical way to save space for any culture that buried people in boxes, sarcophagi, or similar containers.

Cutting off his own internal speculations, Spencer forced his focus back to the disturbing carving. As in Three's pictures, the girl's hairpins resembled a crown. Perhaps that was just how Pornal had liked them, but it made Spencer want to research crowns and see if they carried the same connotations of status and worth in Pegasus as on Earth. Again, Spencer stopped his mind from shying away from what he had to see and do.

The councilor in deep blue said, "We seem to have another unexpected testimony to a crime we did not know was related, or even existed."

Everyone held silent for a long moment. Spencer took the opportunity to study his surroundings. He didn't have enhanced vision, but his gift let him pick out a round spirit animal perched high in a tree at the edge of the woods. Easy to miss, it was almost certainly the same owl he'd seen with the hill people, almost certainly Kapotesh's spirit animal. It was only then that a deer peeked out from a hiding place just below the owl. Perhaps Dostovo had been working with Kapotesh all along. Spencer remembered the story Dostovo had told about Pasarten and the Guardian newcomer who had rescued nen from drowning. The story had even specified that one of them had a bird for a spirit animal, but Spencer could imagine why Kapotesh might not wish to reveal more about nen identity. Knowing what he did of Dostovo and Kapotesh, Spencer found their involvement more comforting than the idea his destiny was determined by unknown forces on the spirit plane. Although both might be true.

Shiriwan, the scholar on the council who'd seemed most dedicated to their investigation spoke for the first time that day, "I propose that this exquisite rendering of a terrible act be displayed on the back shelf of the council chambers. The artist clearly calls upon us to avoid bias in who we serve and the questions we seek to answer."

Several council members looked dyspeptic at best as eyes and lips tightened, but no one spoke against the proposal.

The guard who had opened the box carried the small statue around for each council member to examine. The one in red and purple said, "It is a perfect likeness of Tarafan. Does anyone disagree?"

Paranok began to struggle and shout. "No, he will never wake and speak to us again if you blame him for such a mistake."

The nearest guards restrained their former leader.

After a murmuring of ascent all around, the councilors stood. The one in red and purple said, "Murder is far more than a mistake. Hiding such a crime would be a betrayal of your office and a crime in its own right. Let us view the body and conclude this sad affair."

Spencer couldn't help but notice several lotuks now circling above the grave. They had a blueish tinge, even as dark shapes circling in a pale blue sky. But Spencer tried not to stare at them, since there was little chance anyone else present, aside from other spirit animals and perhaps a few people hiding their gifts, could see them.

The rest of the assembled crowd followed the councilors until they all gathered around the grave as if attending a funeral. The undertaker had probably rearranged hair and clothing, and cleaned Pornal up as well as possible. They didn't need more forensic evidence, so Spencer was glad in this case for the respect shown the dead. Pornal lay straight with her arms crossed at her chest, as in the sculpture. Her fur robe was brushed smooth and laid to cover all but her wounded chest and her tiny cloth shoes. Wisps of hair obscured the bloating and discoloration that affected her face. Instead, all eyes were drawn to the shiny, crown-like decorations in her hair.

"Why would even Tarafan kill a child?" someone asked.

No one answered.

Spencer hated to play on the death of a young person, but he knew this was his best chance to help her bond mates and possibly prevent such injustice in the future. "I did not come back to Shan Mal for this. I did not seek future justice for visitors, refugees, children, or those within your own network of obligations. But I was charged to share whatever evidence I found, and that sometimes involves hard truths."

While the council members were still in front, Spencer spoke to everyone present. "There are those who would deny or rewrite what is true. This is your world and your culture. If you as a people choose to allow such erasure, I can't stop you. But as an individual, I will speak my own truth as it is relevant to this case. I am what some would call a Spirit Leader. I was called from another planet through a Ring of the Ancestors to find my bond mate, Ronon Dex." There were gasps around the audience, and Spencer felt only a little bit possessive. It was good to finally say this publicly. "In the course of my work with different cultures on different worlds, I learned there are many ways to see such gifts and such bonds, but there are certain undeniable truths."

Looking around, Spencer was pleased to see Ronon, Sheppard, and even McKay were alert and watching the crowd. That allowed Spencer to relax his posture and speak as openly as possible. "Earlier, we were provided with pictures and a bow and arrows that match those used in the attack I was called to investigate. Those came from someone I have only met on the spirit plane. It was there that I heard about the murder of Pornal." Spencer motioned to the body before them. "Pornal's bond mate did not intend to kill Tarafan, although I'm told by the laws of nen people that would have been justified to repay a life debt. It turns out the archer shot Tarafan to protect another bond mate who came to Shan Mal injured, a refugee seeking help and to comfort their fourth bond mate, Lokusay, the person whose home was attacked by city guards this morning."

While the councilors shifted uncomfortably, many in the audience paid pointed attention. "To some of you, I must seem foolish to reveal this much about myself and what I know to be true. Or maybe you think I only dare because I am an outsider. Yes, I find safety with my team and my friends who know the truth. But don't imagine any of you can change what is true by denying it. In doing so, you blind yourselves to knowledge and options. You weaken yourselves when you turn away from honest learning. The Rings belong to all, including those whose gifts encompass spirit guides and the spirit plane."

Seeing that he had everyone's attention, but knowing he couldn't hold it much longer, Spencer pushed for the immediate outcomes he wanted. "I don't know how those who refuse to believe in bond mates or meetings on the spirit plane will reconcile those biases to see justice done here. What I know is that there were four young people who found each other and bonded across four different worlds, and now there are only three of them left alive. Maybe if Shan Mal had been open to hearing their truth, Pornal would be alive and Tarafan would be uninjured. As I said, it's up to all of you to work with your council, or by whatever means necessary, to learn from what happened here. My people are prepared to welcome Lokusay and nen bond mates, and to provide for whatever observances they wish for Pornal. But Lokusay is one of you and would like to retain nen name and a place for nen and nen bond mates among the hill people here in the future. That and the punishments for Paranok and Tarafan, should he ever wake, remain for your council to decide."

"You suggest the archer, Lokusay, and their unnamed refugee bond mate have done no wrong and deserve no punishment?" the councilor in deep blue asked.

"More than this?" Spencer asked, motioning to the body of Pornal.

"At least Lokusay must appear before us," the councilor in silvery blue said. "Nen is part of our network of responsibility and is old enough to state what is true and what nen wants now."

McKay said over the radios, "They want to see the body. Juarez is bringing them out now."

By the time the Jumper ramp fully lowered, Ronon was helping to support Two. He could walk, but both Juarez and Ronon were concerned that he'd push himself too hard and do additional damage before his surgery.

Lokusay walked before them all in simple layers of loose clothing. Nen eyes were bloodshot, and nen hair was greasy. Where Pornal was the image of murdered innocence, Lokusay was the picture of grieving youth. Nen held nen head up in stubborn determinations before reaching the body laid out upon the ground and folding down with a sob. Petting the furs, Lokusay looked like nen would cry if there were any tears left. Instead nen said slowly, "I don't want to live here right now. I want to go where my bond mate can be healed and I can apprentice as a healer. But this is my home. I would like to come back someday. And I wish to keep my name to share with my bond mates and any future family."

"Could you hear all that was said from inside the spaceship?" the councilor in green asked, mouth drawn in displeasure at the notion.

"I could. I did. I want to take Pornal with me." Lokusay made room for Two who had finally reached nen side. They both sat clutching the fur cloak, as if unable to touch the actual body of their lost bond mate, someone they had never seen in person before.

"And you outsider," the same councilor asked, "will you at least tell us your name and your part in this?"

Two opened his mouth wide, displaying to the council and others what had been done to his tongue and his teeth. No one asked any questions after that. Ronon helped Two back to the Jumper. Juarez shifted Pornal into a body bag and let Lokusay carry one end to keep the body lying flat between them.

It did not surprise Spencer that Teyla went to speak with a few of the guards. She had been the primary team member investigating them and had hiked back with the group they had fought that morning. She drew the new Head of Security, Fitazed, aside and said, "Now you know the parts that were not mine to tell. I hope this gives you the understanding you will need."

She was too polite, or perhaps too skillful of a diplomat, to suggest he needed to do a better job than the previous Head of Security and stand up to future lies or manipulations by the council.

Spencer stayed where he was long enough for the council to proclaim, stiltedly, that Lokusay and the Lanteans were all welcome to return and that Lokusay retained full rights to nen name. "We thank you for your service. Do you wish to accompany us back to chambers to discuss fitting punishments for Paranok and Tarafan?"

Although none of the councilors read as fully honest to Spencer, he could see and sense how the day's events had impacted them all. "I'll trust your judgement on that. Thank you for your efforts to see justice done."

Teyla, Sheppard, and McKay joined him then. Sheppard asked, "Should we return the official knives to Fitazed now?" A councilor summoned the new Head of Security to accept the knives that Sheppard had already collected.

Teyla made a final farewell saying, "While the circumstances were not the best, we appreciated your hospitality and look forward to future dealings with your people."

"As do we," the councilor in green agreed with arms spread wide.

The instant the Jumper hatch closed with all of them inside McKay said, "That means we can come back soon to barter for neodymium magnets, right?"

#

Dr. Beckett had prepared everything he might need for Two before they even returned. The first surgery took place while the team was still debriefing. A second, the day after.

Everyone agreed Lokusay could share a room in the infirmary as he recovered, if that was what they both wanted. Ronon dragged a bench into the room when he couldn't bear to stay away. Spencer came and went, finding several requests for his time and services had collected while they were gone. It was only chance that Spencer was present for Two's first word with his newly grafted tongue.

It sounded like, "Lololay," but they all knew it was, "Lokusay."

An hour and many tests by Beckett and Juarez later, and Lokusay announced, "He wants to spend time on the spirit plane."

"Okay, Dostovo said that was a good way to rest," Spencer said.

"He wants us to join him." Lokusay moved to lie down on nen bed across the room.

"Me or just Ronon?" Spencer asked.

"All of us. You're family now, too." Lokusay didn't shake nen head or use any of the hill people's hand gestures that seemed to carry the same meaning. Nen spoke as if it were obvious.

Ronon stretched out on his narrow waiting room bench and pulled Spencer half on top of him, braced against the wall. It felt inappropriate, but Spencer needed the reassurance. He sank into the full body comfort and pulled Ronon with him to the spirit plane. This time they arrived right beside Lokusay and Two, with the lotuks wheeling and spiraling above them all.

"It worked," was the first thing Two said. Then, "My name is Doestos. I would like to be Doestossay."

"Yes," Lokusay threw nen arms around him, pushing him back onto the ground. It devolved into something between tickling and wrestling for a bit, and Spencer wondered if they should have come along after all.

Then Doestossay sat up and said, "I don't want to upset anyone's traditions. But could I be Doestossay Dex?"

Ronon said, "I would like that." They both looked to Lokusay.

"It's a lot to say, but I'm happy with it if you both are." The teens looked like they might want to hug or tackle Ronon, but they weren't quite ready for that yet. Then Ronon's navone appeared and burrowed between them, restarting the playful wrestling from before.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi appeared, unnoticed by the rowdy threesome and climbed onto Ronon and Spencer's knees where they met, side by side. Ronon looped an arm around Spencer and pulled him close. "I'd like to give you my name, too. In whatever order. Even if it's not official."

"I'd like that. In time, okay?" Spencer stroked Ronon's side. "You can focus on him for now. Oh, and you might want to name your spirit animal and confirm nen pronoun."

The teens were sitting up again. Ronon's spirit animal wandered over to Ronon and shook like a dog coming in from the rain. "You want to be called Dexter and have nen for your pronoun?"

The navone looked Ronon in the eyes and nodded once. Then nen snorted and wandered away toward the forest as if dismissing the indignities of a moment before.

"Knowing my real body matches this is so much better than before," Doestossay said. He was still obviously larger and more muscular on the spirit plane, but Spencer had no doubt the youth's real body would catch up in time.

"I fear I'll never understand the importance of gender to you all," Lokusay said as nen played with Doestossay's fingers, "but I was amazed with what the healers here could do to repair your body, and I understand wanting to heal."

"You understand, don't you Ronon?" Doestossay asked.

"I think so. I knew by your age that I would be very large and strong, and I looked forward to that. I kept watching for hair to grow on my face." Ronon pulled on his impressive beard. "What it meant to be male may have been a bit different on Sateda, but I would have been pissed in your situation. No one had the right to change me that way without permission. No one had the right to change you."

"And killing my dad?"

"No one had a right to do what he did to you," Ronon said flatly. "But there are people here, mind doctors, that can help, just as Dr. Beckett and Juarez have."

"Okay." Doestossay looked haunted for a minute but shook it off quickly. "Did Dr. Beckett and Juarez explain to you all they did for me? My balls were designed by the Ancients for those born into the wrong bodies, to produce hormones and stuff, but the skin around them and my tongue are grown from parts of my own."

"Cloned tissue, Dr. Beckett called it," Lokusay sounded reverent. Spencer wondered when the doctor might explain that he was a clone and what the healers' apprentice would think of that.

"The teeth are fake, but better than a bridge. They say I will still feel when I bite something. The parts that feel are under my teeth." Doestossay ran his tongue along his teeth as if showing them off, even though they were on the spirit plane where he'd always had teeth. "I can't have kids the usual way, although Juarez says there are other ways. Now I won't have to worry about it happening by accident, so I guess that's okay. I'm definitely not ready for that yet."

Spencer knew the lotuk that swooped down was Three even before nen spoke. "Don't be careless about that. There are diseases." Nen poked Doestossay in the ribs with nen beak.

Shoving Three's head away before gently stroking nen neck Doestossay said, "You get why having my body back mattered though."

"I know how it would matter to me," Three said strutting around toward Ronon. "But my people don't even have a separate word for gender, so I can't say it's the same. We have male, female, and intersex. We've heard stories of eunuchs on other planets, but no one would let that happen on our world. My family doesn't even approve of circumcision, although some who've married into our society do. Basically, I'm female, but that's just a sex to us. I'm mostly expected to have kids someday, but talking about that is the only time we use words like she or her. The rest of the time it's nen or <kapt> if it matters that I'm underage or <pad> if my training level as a fighter is relevant."

Three was nosing, or beaking, at Spencer's ferret by the end of that sentence. Rikki took the opportunity to climb from Spencer's knee to between Three's wings. "Is that okay?" Spencer asked. He felt something from the ferret, the first clear emotion he'd had from the spirit animal since that part of his gifts had developed. It was a longing.

#

_At night, in the house he shared with his mom and dad, Spencer would throw open his window and dive into the night sky. He'd fly, gliding or pulling with his arms the way he pulled through water in the public pool. Pulling higher._

_Up high, he could see the roof of his house. All the houses became rectangles and L-shapes. Swimming pools were ovals or rectangles that shone in the moonlight. Streets like black rivers joined together, the largest leading him to the lights of the Strip._

_Even as he knew he must be dreaming—people couldn't fly, he was too heavy, he would need massive wings, air wasn't as dense as water—he didn't believe he could imagine all this. Growing up in Las Vegas, everyone knew the Strip was full of lights, casinos, and strange decorations. But how would he know the shape of each house from above or how the roads came together to reach the Strip? He was just a little kid who didn't know anything. His dad told him often enough. His dad would yell and tease him if he said that he could fly at night._

_Still, the air felt cooler as it moved across Spencer's face, whistled through his loose pajama top. He could smell bakeries starting early and someone frying bacon. He followed birds out over the desert until he feared he couldn't find his way home again. Instead of staying with them, he flew home, back to his boring house and the dad who would yell at him. But at least his mom was there. She would always be there for him._

#

"I think my ferret wants to fly," Spencer blurted, disoriented from the memory that had grabbed his full awareness.

"I guess that works here," Three said. With just a couple steps and broad flaps of nen wings, they were airborne. The ferret riding a bird reminded Spencer of a cartoon he'd seen someplace, and he laughed aloud at how much his life and perspective had changed since leaving Earth.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"Have you seen a comic called XKCD?" When Ronon shook his head, Spencer said, "I'll show you sometime."

His ferret was thrilled with flying. Spencer wondered how hard it would be to fly if he turned into a bird on the spirit plane, but this wasn't the time for such experiments. Today he was here for Doestossay and Ronon and a group that might be his new family.

"All your spirit guides are lotuks," Ronon half stated half asked.

Lokusay looked hesitant but Doestossay said, "Yes. We think we were all born at the same moment, like a clutch of lotuks, although we weren't reborn as a cluster with our gifts until recently."

"You knew about gifts before then?"

"Some of us did," Doestossay said. "They explained that part to the rest of us. But none of us knew about clusters. The one that birthed us tried to explain something but couldn't stay in our minds. We made some mistakes at first—messed each other up, interrupted at awkward moments, talked to each other in ways that made us look crazy. Have you heard of anything like this?"

"No, I'm sorry," Ronon said. "We rescued some books from Sateda. I can look for any stories that might be similar. We plan to translate several stories about gifts to start educating others."

Three landed and delivered a slightly dazed ferret to Spencer's lap. "We agreed to keep this a secret."

"He didn't share many details," Lokusay said. "And Ronon and Spencer are family now, to all of us. You said you wanted to come here and train."

"Ugh." The way Three flexed nen wings made Spencer envision a young human form bringing hands up to cover nen face. "You've known them a couple days. I'm the one who argued for the Satedan's good reputation, but we knew nothing about the Ancients and Earthlings."

"They're trusting us with those secrets," Doestossay said.

"Sorry," Three said. "I believe if my own people found out they would do anything, including holding me hostage, to gain control of our cluster. There's a reason gifts are kept at least partly secret on my planet, Shan Mal, and even here."

Doestossay stood and reached up. The lotuk that came to perch on his arm was almost certainly his spirit animal. It also looked impossibly large to be perched that way, but on the spirit plane Doestossay could be a strong as he believed. "I want to be myself as much as possible. I hate my people for other reasons, but they were a lot more honest overall. My dad didn't pretend to like me. The cutter who hurt me didn't pretend to care what I wanted. The royals didn't pretend to appreciate my father's intentions or what I had lost. Maybe someone had gifts they were hiding, but if so, I never guessed."

"You don't have to pretend with us," Ronon said. "I will try to be honest with you. I definitely won't tell your secrets. You'll be part of the conversation as we plan how to educate others and decide which stories to share. And you have to know, I would never hurt you like your dad did. You have choices and all the power you want in this relationship."

Setting his lotuk down, Doestossay moved carefully to sit beside Ronon. Just as carefully, Ronon reached an arm across the young man's back to hold him without any force. Doestossay's spirit animal moved behind Ronon to lean a long neck and head against his other shoulder.

It looked like everything Ronon had wanted when he'd spoken about adopting Two.

Then Lokusay came over to lean against Spencer. Rikki moved to lie along Lokusay's neck and shoulders.

Three sat quietly for a while not touching anyone. Finally, nen said, "I know you mentioned some kind of paperwork for adopting Doestossay, and you were going to modify it for Lokusay to be an apprentice healer but not be seen as his sibling. Neither of them can read or come from a society with written contracts. Ronon can't read Saresh or my native language, Odu, I'm sure. But if you're promising to be honest with us, one of you could read the contracts aloud to me. I could check if they're missing anything, and it would help me decide whether to come work with you when I'm of age."

Without pause, Ronon pulled the paperwork from a pocket and started reading. Spencer wondered if his bond mate happened to be carrying the documents now or if this was another of those things that happened because someone willed it so on the spirit plane.

About two sentences into the formal contract language, Lokusay whispered to Spencer, "Did you want to be bigger? Or to grow a beard?"

"I've experimented with facial hair," Spencer said with a chuckle. "Never anything like Ronon's, and mostly I don't want it. Despite where I grew up, I don't think I understand my culture's feelings about gender. It seems illogical to me. I've been called androgynous. I've had dreams where I was female, mostly when I was little and had only seen girls spin on ice skates or do tricks on a balance beam."

"I don't understand those things."

"Sorry. I'll show you videos later." Spencer shifted so nen could lean against him more comfortably, and he was amazed by how natural it was to touch someone he'd known for only a few days despite his usual reticence with touch. There was something powerful about family the way Ronon and these others saw it. "Maybe it was a Spirit Leader thing. Dostovo said my gifts make it easier to change form here. I dream myself as both male and female, and sometimes as an animal or something insubstantial that can pass through walls. I'd say my physical body doesn't matter much to me, but I never dreamed of being big like Ronon. I never dreamed of being a super hero or a giant, which I learned in college would have been typical ways to make myself feel powerful when I lacked power as a child. Instead I dreamed about flying, passing through walls, being invisible."

Lokusay's face grew drawn and solemn. "My parent taught that we can know ourselves through dreams, but I don't remember being aware if I was male or female in any of my dreams. I did dream of flying when I was little, and riding on birds as your spirit guide did."

"If I can learn to fly as a dragon or something big enough here, maybe I could take you flying with me," Spencer offered. And Lokusay hugged him.

"I may try to take a lotuk form as three does, but I would like to fly with you as well," Lokusay said. "Will you be my listener now, as Dostovo used to be?"

Spencer felt a sort of intentionality and longing behind the question that made him cautious, but didn't help him understand. "Anything you want to discuss with me, I promise I will listen. But we don't use 'listener' as a title or relationship term here. I'm not sure what you're asking. As Ronon told Doestossay, we have mind doctors, called psychologists or psychiatrists, who you might want to visit. You've been through a lot of trauma in a short time, losing both a parent and a bond mate, what you went through to protect Doestossay, and moving away from everything you've known before… Even coming to terms with your gift and cluster must have been stressful. I go to a psychologist to work through some of my own trauma and grief, so I hope you'll consider it, even if you want to talk with me as well."

"Maybe. You could help me see where a psychologist might be useful," Lokusay said. "But I have my bond mates, Ronon, Juarez, and Dr. Beckett who I know would listen and try to help me. A listener is something else, often a Spirit Leader or someone with emotive or spiritual gifts. You can see when I lie or hide what I feel, even if I deceive myself. I'm asking you to help me see myself better, to challenge me even about things you might otherwise hesitate to mention."

"I'm not sure I'm a good choice for that." Spencer felt his self-doubt and the sense that he was no more than an imposter settle like a cold stone inside him.

"I'm saying you're the choice I want as my listener. You need to decide if you are willing." Lokusay reached up to hold the ferret still nestled around nen neck. "Your spirit guide will help you and seems willing. Dostovo will probably meet us here sometimes, and you could consult nen. I can tell you all I've learned from nen in the past, but I'm pretty sure a 'listener' is something you are already. Will you be mine?"

Spencer couldn't say no. He'd been afraid of becoming a parent, but this felt like something he was called upon to be. Pushing against his own doubts, he said, "Yes. I mean, I'll do my best, but you'll have to help me figure it out."

"Exactly." Lokusay curled more comfortably into Spencer's side, too content for Spencer to doubt the decision any more in that moment.

They sat quietly for a while as Ronon, Doestossay, and Three discussed the wording of his termination clause.

"It's meant to protect you," Three said. "They're saying you can terminate the contract without cause if you want to leave here and not take any of their stuff with you."

"But I don't want that. I want to stay Doestossay Dex, even if I go somewhere else, even if I die."

"You want security," Ronon said. "And I want to give you that. This contract is an Earth thing. We can write up a family charter, just between us. But I don't want you to ever feel you have to stay or put up with something you don't want."

"If you were hurt, I'd help take care of you even if I didn't really like it." Doestossay hesitated before adding, "You're taking care of me. I'm sure you'd rather I was healthy."

"I'd rather you were healthy because I hate that anyone hurt you. And I wouldn't want you to choose taking care of me over better choices for yourself." Ronon still had his arm around Doestossay, and they both seemed pleased by the contact even as they argued.

Three's wings flexed again in the way that suggested burying nen face in human hands. "You're both ridiculous and probably perfect for each other. But that's not what the written contract is about. Could you please keep reading?"

Spencer found himself looking forward to meeting Three and possibly others from the cluster in person someday, as they came of age and felt safe introducing themselves.

#

Less than a month later, Three showed up in person and asked to be considered as one of their defenders and as an apprentice to Ronon. Nen also insisted on being accepted as an adult, given that nen had achieved that status by local cultural norms before leaving home, so the distinction mattered a great deal to nen. That streamlined working Earth military restrictions into an apprenticeship contract based on the one already approved by Woolsey and Stargate Command to let Lokusay intern with Juarez and Beckett. So Three became an apprentice to Ronon and Sheppard and signed nen name as Sawasay.

A week after that, Sawasay was sitting at one end of the row of chairs on a raised platform in the Atlantis mess hall. Lokusay sat beside her. Three other panel members from three other planets filled the rest of the chairs.

Namar, a science intern who'd become an apprentice diplomat to Teyla—in a less formal Athosian arrangement that did not involve any written contract—silenced the room just by walking forward to stand in front of the panelists. "Welcome and greetings, all. We are pleased to see such great interest for today's community meeting on Gender, Pronouns, and Expectations. I am sure your enthusiastic attendance has nothing to do with the promised cookie party afterward."

The audience laughed, as they were intended to. Spencer also saw a relaxing of body language all around the room. That included Doestossay who sat between Spencer and Ronon. Doestossay had declined to sit on the panel with his bond mates, saying he had nothing interesting to say about gender. It was clear he didn't want to speak about his home world or culture in any public way and was possibly also shy about public speaking in general. He'd made many friends since moving to Atlantis, especially among the botanists, where Spencer thought another internship might be mentioned soon. But of the three young people, Doestossay acted the youngest and was the most likely to stick close to Ronon or Spencer.

"Sawasay is threatening to make you write out all the pronouns from Odu on a whiteboard if the projections system doesn't work," Doestossay whispered to Spencer.

Having previously thought of himself as a very private person, Spencer couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a cluster of bond mates who could communicate with you or even take physical actions for you at will. He could only hope those who developed such gifts would naturally be the sort of people who could tolerate such back and forth. While he thought it would be fascinating as far as seeing different perspectives and experiencing other reactions in a different body, it made his brain hurt to even think about it for too long. On the other hand, learning Odu had come to Spencer more easily than any Earth language or even Satedan. The language was intricate, detailed, and well suited to logic and analysis. That did mean it sometimes had many words where other languages required only a few.

The chart of Odu pronouns appeared at that moment, ten feet high and twenty feet wide, on the wall behind the panel. "Looks like Ancient technology triumphs as a slide projector," Spencer whispered back to Doestossay. Then they were both caught up in listening to Sawasay.

"I realize some at this gathering dislike written language, because it does not automatically translate with passage through the Ring. But I made this visual aid not to teach you my words, but to visually show you how many personal pronouns are used in my native language, Odu. To clarify, each group of symbols is a word. I've circled each in red to make them easy to count, and I'm sure someone in the audience already has."

"Fifty-four!" a voice called out from the rear.

"Yes, and these are only what some might call third person nominative forms of each pronoun, so they all carry distinct meanings. Only three have to do with a person's sex: tak, tik, tok." Nen used the laser pointer to indicate what group of symbols would translate to indicate each in turn. "We would only use those pronouns when talking about reproduction, pregnancy, childbirth, etc. So someone might say of me, 'Tok is in no hurry to birth a child.'"

Much of the audience laughed. Sawasay gave them a stern look, but Spencer could tell she'd planned it that way.

"However, my people and language have nothing equivalent to the concept of 'gender.' If we were talking about a military situation, we would use these five pronouns: pad, pil, pul, pish, pesh. "Given my apprentice status and Colonel Sheppard's status as my mentor and the military commander, someone might say, 'Pad aspires to one day lead troops as skillfully as pesh does.'

"I won't bore the non-linguists with all the rest, but the last pronoun listed, nin, is a general use pronoun my people employ when none of the other categories apply or when we're unsure of which pronoun applies to an individual. We do use other forms besides nin in other parts of a sentence, but nonetheless, I was surprised at the similarity to nen when I learned that was the only personal pronoun in Lokusay's home language." Nen nodded toward nen bond mate. "So while I'm not sure I'll ever really understand gender or some of the ways it is important to others, I was happy to choose the pronoun nen for myself and hope that will make things easier for all of you in situations that wouldn't be covered by Ring translation."

Chris Wong, a Canadian biologist and the only Earthling on the panel said, "I'm genderqueer and had so many people on Earth say it was too hard for them to use ve or they when referring to me. Now I live on Atlantis and I'd be very happy to use nen, if that's okay with both of you."

"Of course," Lokusay said.

"We may need another panel to discuss how people feel about their languages in different cultures," Sawasay said, "but most people I've met think it's an honor if you learn some of their words rather than relying on Ring translation or getting frustrated when something doesn't translate."

"On that note," Sa'mu from Otongeii said, "let me tell you about the seven genders my people recognize, our customs, and how we handle pronouns."

#

When the panel ended, everyone stayed for the promised cookie party. Many had brought precious personal items or care package cookies from Earth to share.

In addition to the usual table of beverages in the mess hall, Beckett had arranged for a hot chocolate bar. There were carafes of two different hot chocolates: Scharffen Berger and Ghirardelli. There was a bowl of raw sugar, for those who favored a sweeter mixture than Beckett had prepared. Then there were bowls with possible items to add on top or mix in: homemade marshmallows, homemade whipped cream, chocolate shavings, crushed peppermint candy, cinnamon, chili powder, and an Athosian spice that reminded Spencer of cardamom and cloves.

There were stations set up in the kitchen where volunteers were teaching others to make their favorite homemade cookies. Beckett was making ginger snaps, with McKay eagerly suggesting he make at least twice as many as originally planned. Spencer's favorite Athosian baker was making cookies traditionally served at their Harvest Moon festival that involved large, halved nuts that were supposed to resemble a full moon. There were at least four other planets and several Earth cultures represented. Spencer was most amused to find a German chemist outside teaching how to bake Springerle in an Ancient outdoor oven because they were leavened with ammonium carbonate, and the ammonia smell could be off-putting in a shared kitchen.

After that demonstration Spencer ducked back inside to find the rest of his family. The first he spotted was Doestossay at the hot chocolate bar, making an impressively tall creation with whipped cream and all the other toppings at once.

It was only chance that Spencer overheard a young Marine he didn't recognize ask Doestossay, "So did you start out as a boy or a girl?"

Without thinking, Spencer responded across the table, "If you'd just asked if I was circumcised or uncircumcised, do you think that would be rude?"

"Well—" the overconfident young man looked ready to follow up with a joke before Spencer cut him off.

"What you just asked is a hundred times worse. He could press charges for sexual harassment."

"And he's my kid," Ronon said, appearing without a sound, seemingly out of nowhere.

The Marine noticeably startled.

Spencer wasn't surprised the Tracker overheard and intervened. He was a bit surprised to see Sheppard and Sawasay right behind him.

Sheppard led with, "Anything to say for yourself, Private Cole?"

In a blink the Private stood at attention, turning bright red. "No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Cole sputtered out, "I’m sorry, Doestossay. Is that right? I was just curious. I saw this movie where—"

"That's enough," Sheppard said. "Be in my office at 0800 and I'll tell you my extensive plans to improve your attitude and your manners. Doestossay Dex, do you want to press charges? You can wait and tell me later if you'd like to discuss your options first."

"Um, actually, I agree what he asked was rude. Very rude. I could have been really hurt or mad if I was someone else." Doestossay looked at the Marine who stood like a statue as he barely breathed. "But I was more embarrassed than anything else. My people didn't have a word for transgender or anything like that, and I was pretty curious too when Dr. Beckett explained to me what the Ancient technology was originally used for. I don't know what it would be like to want a different body than I was born into, but I know how mad I was to have parts cut away when I still wanted them. I think it's great the Ancients provided for that choice, and it would be a shame for anyone who wanted it to be afraid or uncomfortable due to other people's rude words or actions."

"Is that understood, Private Cole?" Sheppard asked in full military commander mode.

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

As soon as the private left, Sawasay was pushing up against Doestossay's side, under the pretense of creating an elaborate hot chocolate creation. "Way to tell him. You should totally have been on that panel with us."

"If anyone here is transgender," Doestossay said, "I wouldn't blame them for not wanting to speak on a panel or to someone like that. But if someone who wanted it learned about the Ancient procedure because of me, that would make it all a little worth it."

"There are some very cool things about our city," Sheppard said, hand pressed against the nearest wall. "And I'll try to get the people here to live up to what she deserves."

"Why she?" Sawasay asked.

When Sheppard didn't answer immediately, Spencer decided to help him out. "Historically, ships on Earth were named after goddesses, then after important women like queens or matriarchs. The traditions lingers more in some communities than others."

"If you want to know a secret," Sheppard spoke softly, drawing them all closer to the wall, "I think the Ancients may have started it before anyone on Earth named a ship. I have it on good Authority that the Ancients gave all their large spaceships female names, mostly starting with vowel sounds. They used female pronouns for them, and after all this time, it seems a bit late to change, unless asked of course."

He said the last like it was a joke, but Spencer was certain Sheppard had asked his bond mate. Somehow it warmed Spencer to know the military commander and Atlantis had discussed their pronouns.

It was Ronon who said, "Good we're all learning."

"Oh yeah, I learned a lot from Shan Mal besides pronoun issues. Mostly what not to do." Sheppard slouched and smirked.

"And I'm learning that a military can actually have more rules, regulations, forms and writing than what I grew up with." Sawasay leaned against the wall, and Spencer feared nen was also learning Sheppard's slouch. "I've heard so many visitors complain about our obsession with written contracts and agreements, but we've got nothing on you."

"From what I've heard so far, your military seems to handle individuality and diversity better, even with fewer specific regulations," Sheppard said somewhat wistfully.

"I haven't told you all the parts they fail at yet." Sawasay smiled sweetly and sipped hot chocolate. "It might be worth sitting down and comparing regulations, laws, recruitment, migration, and justice to learn each system's strengths, weaknesses, and assumptions."

"Yeah, you know who would be great for that? My second in command, Lorne. You set up the meeting, and I'll let him know I want a very clear list with bullet points at the end." With that, Sheppard wandered off to the kitchen, probably to collect ginger snaps from Beckett and McKay.

"I think I just learned about how my commanding officer delegates," Sawasay said.

"True," Spencer agreed. "But I'd really like to join that meeting with Lorne if you don't mind. I have some notes about power structures on Shan Mal, and I'd be fascinating to hear whatever you and Lorne piece together."

As Doestossay finished another run on the hot chocolate bar he said, "I'm going to bring Lokusay hot chocolate and see what's new in the kitchen? Anyone want to join?"

They all did.

#

Sawasay had been on Atlantis for two full months and Doestossay and Lokusay nearly three, when they gathered their friends for a combination housewarming and family naming ceremony. Ronon and Spencer's team including Beckett, Teyla's family, as well as Juarez, Lorne, and Parrish, all fit comfortably into the family's new great room with attached balcony.

Parrish stood awkwardly to one side, not knowing the others quite as well. He'd only recently convinced Doestossay to officially become an apprentice botanist, and only after they'd retooled and opened up an Ancient greenhouse together. Spencer was trying to figure out what a socially competent host would do to help when Lorne saved him the trouble. "Hey, Parrish, help me out. Sawasay and Ronon say I have to try some Satedan folk dance, and I need a partner."

"You know I'll trip all over you," Parrish said.

"I'm counting on it," Lorne replied with an unbelievably innocent smile.

Lorne had found them the four-bedroom suite they were celebrating now. It was one of the largest on Atlantis, and Lorne's logistical reasoning had been that each of the teens needed their own room. Shortly after that, the teens had trusted Spencer and Ronon with the fact that there were seven of them remaining in the cluster. They'd intentionally written their family charter to include all the teens' bond mates without spelling it out for anyone else to see. They'd also invited any of the others to come, to visit or move in, even the one who was already effectively married and would therefore bring nen partner, if nen ever came. So Spencer imagined the space could more than fill up. He and Ronon might even need to move out someday to make room. But it was a bit early to be worrying about that.

"Who made these?" McKay shouted from the kitchen where he was hovering over a tray of brownies.

"Me!" Lokusay shouted from the hot chocolate bar, an encore party idea that everyone had insisted upon.

"Did Beckett teach you?" McKay gave the doctor a betrayed look. "You never told me you made brownies."

Lokusay laughed, "Beckett is teaching me to read using recipes. He says it's safer than starting with medical instructions and procedures, although I've learned most of the words on labels in the infirmary."

"From now on when you join us for hot chocolate, I expect you to bring brownies." McKay mumbled around a large bite of brownie.

"You will expect no such thing." Beckett shifted from tidying the counter to leaning heavily into McKay's space. Spencer was pretty sure everyone at the party knew at least the two of them were more than friends. "You're perfectly capable of following a recipe and baking for yourself."

"I do my part by keeping the power running so other people can bake," McKay argued, grabbing another brownie.

"I'd be happy to make you brownies sometimes," Lokusay said, wandering over with nen hot chocolate. "Especially if you supply me with chocolate and cocoa powder."

McKay huffed.

Sheppard leaned between the two of them to snag a brownie. "I'd trade Jumper rides for brownies."

"Way to act professional in front of the kids," McKay grumbled, mouth full.

"You want me to always act professional?" Sheppard shimmied in a way that was mock suggestive, but Spencer had long ago concluded the details of that relationship were not his to know.

"Would anyone like some passel cheese?" Spencer offered, bringing around a tray. "The taste is between goat and cow cheese. The cheesemaker on Shan Mal was recently showing us how they age this first variety—"

Ronon called out, "We're ready to read the family charter."

"Outside on the balcony so you can see all our plants," Doestossay added.

The family crowded together between two giant ferns as their guests gathered around or stood in the doorways. Lorne took a picture, and Spencer asked, "Could you send me a copy of that to share with my mom and friends on Earth?"

"Sure, I'll even edit out the spires we're not allowed to show." Lorne took a couple more shots so they could choose the best one later.

Spencer read first, covering the basic story of how they became a family and how they would welcome other bond mates or children as circumstances changed. He introduced the Odu word "pinta" that they'd chosen to use to express the family relationship between any of them, although they were fine with others using parent and child equivalents when speaking about them. There had actually been a long discussion about how Spencer didn't want to give up the word "mom" when speaking about his own, because that was basically his name for her. Even Lokusay and Sawasay, whose closest linguistic equivalents meant "birth mother" and would never be used as a form of address, said they could appreciate the emotional significance of such lifelong terms of affection.

Ronon spoke about peace and conflict, how he and Spencer promised to support each other and why they would always be there to nurture their pinta. There was a line alluding to Spencer's role as listener, although few of their guests knew what it truly meant.

Sawasay clarified how their household would work, including processes to agree on changes to the family charter or other arrangements. Spencer had dug into the details with nen, although the others found their efforts—not to mention their tables and flowcharts—a bit elaborate and amusing.

Doestossay had written about the younger bond mates commitments to Ronon and Spencer. That part made Ronon cry the first time he heard it, although he hid it well this evening.

Finally, Lokusay explained about names, how each of nen bond mates had taken "say" as the last syllable of their first name. All of them, including Spencer, agreed to Dex as a last name, although some of them had more than one and they might not be legally recognized outside their family. Nen finished by saying, "While these words are enough to unite out family, I have embroidered bracelets as tokens to remind us."

Neither Spencer nor Ronon had known about this part. Lokusay presented Spencer's first. Even as nen was tying it onto his wrist, Spencer recognized that eight colored lines zigzagged across with one row of black and one of white through the center. He hugged Lokusay before letting nen move on to Ronon.

Spencer gazed out at the friends who'd come to share this moment. In less than half a year, he'd gained a bond mate who loved him, a team that valued him, and now a family that had chosen him. In the midst of it all, he'd become more himself than he'd ever known he could be. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi appeared around Spencer's neck, and Parrish spit out the sip he'd just taken from his hot chocolate. It looked like there was one more person they needed to educate about gifts and the spirit plane.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I borrowed the idea of "clusters" from Sense8—an idea and show that I love, although I scarcely do them justice here. Also, the tag at the beginning for medical misconduct is for discussion of the removal of testicles, tongue, and some teeth before the start of the story from a teenage original character whose consent was not sought on a planet where such surgery was considered (marginally) acceptable. Canon-typical violence includes the stabbing of a minor, shooting an adult (with arrows), and a few lesser fights/injuries.


End file.
